The very man comes up behind me, kissing my neck and staring at me in the bedroom mirror. “I love you, darling.”
I smile. I’ll never get tired of hearing those words or that name. He could shout them a hundred times a minute, and I’d still beg to hear it one more time. “I love when you call me that,” I admit, pressing my bare ass into his groin. I have the audacity to call him a fiend. We’ve only managed to get one layer of clothing on, and we don’t have long to make our way down the stairs.
“Really?” he says, kissing along my exposed shoulder, shivers raking through my body.
“Mhm, I think it’s your accent as well.”
His teeth nip my neck, sending sparks of electricity into the atmosphere.
His voice is smoky, wrapping around me and making me feel intoxicated. “You don’t say?
My hand reaches to grip his jaw, tugging so I can whisper in his ear, “Ireallyfucking love it.”
He wets his bottom lip as he faces me, and the sight of it does inappropriate things in the pit of my stomach. “I feel like it’s past its sell-by date now. You need something more…appropriate,” he says, reluctantly taking his gaze off me and looking straight ahead.
I follow it to stare back at him in the mirror, my voice softer. “Like what?”
Saint snakes his hand along my ribs, slowly travelling down to trace his thumb along the line of my panties, the skin tingling until he takes hold of my left hand. The pads of his finger caresses against my ring finger.
I freeze.
“My wife.”
I stare at his deadly set gaze reflecting back at me for what feels like an eternity, finally managing to breathe out the word, “What?”
His smirk has the light-headedness making a U-turn. “You heard.”
I can’t get a damn sentence to form, my mind and mouth short circuiting. “As in. You mean.” My heart skips a beat when he gives me that rare, full and world-altering smile. “Yes, Indie. Wife, as in you marrying me.”
“You’re asking me—”
“More so telling—”
“To marry you?” I whisper.
He raises his brow, as if he didn’t just ask me a question that’s got my pulse ready to call it a day. “I said it in English, didn’t I?”
Oh yes, yes he did.
He wrapped it up and delivered it in that cocky bad boy accent that makes me weaken at the knees. Makes me swoon like a fucking idiot in an all-consuming love. “Saint.”
He flips me around so I crash against his chest, hands staking their claim as he holds me by the nape like a prized possession. “You’re already mine, darling. But the thought of telling anyone that this sublime creature right here is mywife?” He presses a harsh, possessive kiss to my lips as he grits out, “Fuck. The thought makes me feral.”
“You’re serious?” I breathe, and his voice drops a further octave.
“Do I sound like I’m fucking joking?”
I manage to shake my head as he blurs in my vision. “No.”
Twice within the space of minutes, this man has blessed me with a smile I’ve imprinted into my memory. “Then say my favourite word, beautiful.”
My answer comes out confident, fervent, and without a hint of doubt. “Yes, please.”
It’s a miracle I managed the two, and seeing as the latter was unexpected, his pupils blow out the grey. Our lips collide, his kiss stealing the last remaining part of me that’s mine.
When we’re both breathless, I feel the tension soaring in the room again, his sinful smile brushing against my lips, corrupting a moment I’ll never forget.
I wouldn’t have it any other way, because it’s ours.
