He shakes his head. “Don’t do that. We might have rushed the process. Or skipped most of the process altogether. But we know each other. Tell me we don’t.”
My eyes bounce back and forth between his, and I can see how serious he is.
I reach out with my right hand, setting it over his left.
My pointer finger feels the realness of the ring he’s wearing.
“We know each other,” I admit quietly, because it’s true. “I’ve told you more than I’ve told anyone in… a long time.” The month plus of daily texting is more of a relationship than I think I’ve ever had.
“I know. And I talk to you more than I talk to anyone in my family.”
I keep my eyes on his ring because the next thought I have is one I can’t voice. One I won’t.
Because what about love?
My heart squeezes.
I just want love.
Real love.
I want to get married because of love.
I bite my lip.
Just because we don’t have it right at this moment doesn’t mean we won’t be able to find it together.
He’s a good man.
Dom is a good man. And his relationships with his family prove he’s capable of love.
And if he doesn’t want to fight this, why should I?
I raise my eyes. “So what do we do?”
He slides his hand onto my bare knee. “First, we consummate.”
I raise my brows as my cheeks warm. “Consummate? Do people really still call it that?”
He moves his other hand from below mine to my bare thigh. “I’m traditional when it comes to marriage.”
“How so?” I breathe out as he slides his hands higher.
“A marriage isn’t real until consummation.”
His thumbs brush under the edge of his shirt.
“What else?”
“A marriage makes you family.”
My poor lonely heart squeezes so hard it almost pops.
“I like that,” I whisper.
Dom gives my legs a little squeeze, then he slides his grip higher, not stopping until his thumbs press into that soft crease at the top of my thighs. “I believe in loyalty. And trust. And living together.”
My eyes were sliding closed until that last part. “Living together?”
“Living together.” He yanks me forward as he shifts onto his knees.
I let out a sound of surprise, which gets knocked out of my lungs when Dom uses a hand on my chest to shove me back onto the mattress.
He braces himself over me. “I’m not marrying a wife this fucking sexy and then letting her live six hours away.”
My legs automatically widen, allowing room for his hips. “You want me to move to Chicago?”
Dominic lowers his face until it’s just above mine. “I’m afraid I’m going to demand it.”
“But what if…” I press my hands against his bare chest.
“What if what, Shorty? What if we don’t get along? We do.” He drops his hips, and I groan. “What if we don’t fit?” He presses his weight into me. “We fit together perfectly. And if you need space, my place is big. You can have your space.”
He makes it sound so easy. So possible.
Dom is making me believe we can make this work. That we can make this crazy drunken we’ve only known each other for a month and a half thing work.
And goddammit, I want it.
I want him.
I want a chance to build the future I’ve barely dared to dream of.
Dom shifts, brushing his lips against my ear. “But most importantly, Valentine, when you move in with me, you’ll spend every night in my bed.”
Heat washes through me, a blend of desire and need as I arch into him.
“Okay,” I pant.
“Okay?”
I grip his sides. “Yes. I’ll move to Chicago.”
“And?” Dom inhales against my cheek.
“And I’ll sleep with you.” Dominic chuckles, and I correct myself. “I’ll share your bed.”
He shifts his weight to one elbow, the other hand working to unbutton his shirt that I’m wearing. “Our bed.”
“Our bed,” I repeat, and emotion clogs my throat.
His fingers free the last button, and he parts the fabric, revealing my nakedness.
“My Angel.” Dom skims his fingers down between my breasts, down my belly, and into my curls. I have a second to wonder if he’ll want me to shave it off, but then he groans. And I know he likes me how I am.
“Dom.” I lift my hips against him.
He lowers his face to my throat, breathing me in. “I love that you smell like me.”