ARCHANGEL
Iswear I flinched every time Wolfe even slightly bent his knees over the last two weeks. After our one day off, we’re right into finals and graduation shit. I’m developing some kind of nervous condition around the idea that he might get down on one knee.
And then he does all this, and I really thought it was happening. But I’m not mad. I got the best blow job of my life, and there was no mistaking that Wolfe was into it.
But then he says those words. “I’m completely serious. Will you marry me, Wilder?”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Archangel, answer the question.”
“You’re not really asking.” My heart stops beating, and I might be dying.
“I’m really asking. I don’t want anyone else. I want you to be my husband.”
Now I’m crying.
“Do I need to get back on my knees?” He rubs his thumb through the tears on my cheek.
“No.”
“Are you saying no?” Wolfe asks narrowing his eyes. “Because you’re not allowed to say no.”
“I’m saying no, you don’t need to get back on your knees.” My voice hitches.
“Then what are you saying?”
“Yes.”
He attacks me with his mouth, then fucks me nice and slow.
“What did you mean I’m not getting rid of you?” I ask when we break apart breathing hard.
“You’re not allowed to leave me. You are stuck with me now. I’m in love, and you are mine.”
I groan. “That shouldn’t be so hot.”
“Why because it’s a little stalker ish?”
“Just a little.”
“Well I’m serious.” Wolfe kisses me again.
“I know you are,” I say into his mouth.
“So,when do I get my ring?” I ask as we get into our rental in Savannah.
He finishes wedging himself into the passenger side, then looks over at me, dripping in annoyance. “Never, considering your taste in cars.”
“I’m being serious! Before or after the wedding?”
“I special ordered them so they’d match. I don’t know when they’ll be done,” Wolfe says easily, but he’s my best friend, and I know when he’s hiding something. Only I can’t figure out what.
I can’t figure out what he’d be waiting for if he had them. We don’t have any big dates coming up. Graduation is over, the draft isn’t for another month, and I selfishly kind of want to show up to the wedding with it on.
“They didn’t give you an estimate.”
“They did.” He’s tight-lipped about it.
