That’s how I kiss him for the first time in this new chapter—an after-proposal kiss that I’m going to remember forever.
It’s tender and beautiful, and it’s ours.
But there are practical matters, like rings.
When we break the kiss, I shift off him, my fist still clenched around the ring I bought him a few days ago, and I return to one knee. “Now, get up, hottie. I’m going to put a ring on it and make this real.”
Declan brushes sand off his shorts then rises, wearing a ridiculous grin. I take his hand, my eyes never straying from his. “Meeting you is the best thing that ever happened to me. Falling in love with you the second time around made me feel like the luckiest guy ever. But it’s not luck at all. It’s love and trust and faith. Loving you is the greatest thing I have ever done, and I’m going to do it for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” he says, sounding both solemn and joyful.
I slide the platinum band onto his finger then stand, cup his cheeks and kiss him again.
Then, it’s his turn. He drops to one knee, takes my hand, and shudders. “You’re the love of my life, Grant Blackwood. I want to be your husband, and I want you to be mine. I want to love you, and take care of you, and grow old with you. Always. Will you marry me?”
And it’s a privilege too to say these words. “Yes. I can’t wait to marry you.”
Declan puts a platinum band on my finger, then we close the distance, and we kiss one more time.
35
Declan
It’s official.
I’m a sap.
That night, I can’t stop kissing Grant on the balcony. I can’t shut up either. As I coast my lips along his jaw, I nibble then pull back, holding his face. “You’re going to be my husband.”
“And you’re going to be mine,” he says.
I repeat the word for the twenty-ninth or two-hundredth time. “Husband. I’m a broken record. We’re not even married, and I can’t stop saying it.”
“Maybe you should fuck your fiancé instead. Something else to do with your mouth and all,” Grant says.
“Maybe you should fuck your fiancé,” I counter.
He lifts a naughty brow. “I will.”
Grant tugs me away from the balcony, undoing my shirt as we go, working open the buttons. When they’re undone, I shrug it off, reach for his, and strip him down to nothing. Once my clothes are gone, he pulls me on top of him on the big bed.
Skin to skin, we make out like thieves. I kiss him all over, putting him on his back and traveling down his body, making detours at all my favorite places—his shoulders, his pecs, his nipples that crave attention. I bite and suck, making him groan and writhe.
My dick twitches, eager to get inside him, or be sucked, or be stroked.
I’m open to anything with him.
Like I once told Grant, I love sex. But I’d have to amend that now. I love everything about sex with Grant. I love the way we have it, the frequency, the passion. I love that we don’t have roles, that we take turns, that we give each other whatever we need.
Tonight, I want it all with Grant.
And I touch him that way with my lips, letting him know I crave him. As I resume my journey down his body, I reach his hard, hungry cock, taking him to the back of my throat.
“Yes. My fiancé is so good at giving head,” he moans while I push my right hand on his thigh, grab the lube with my left, and work him open as I lick the head of his dick.
“Mmm, feels so fucking good,” Grant pants, opening his legs wider, asking for more.
My man is shameless in bed. He’s a giver and a taker, and I love his neediness. His sex drive. He wants it fiercely, bodies and pleasure, touching and fucking.
I crook a finger in him, then lift my mouth from his dick so I can watch as he jolts from the sharp, hot bliss.
“Yesssss,” Grant groans as I massage that spot inside him. His hips jerk; his lips part. He pushes up on his elbows and stares at me with flame in his eyes. “Fuck me,” he says, greedy and desperate.
I give a devilish grin as I scissor the fingers of one hand and stroke his cock with the other, making his body shake.
“Deck . . .” he warns. “Fuck me now, because I’m going to need to get inside you really soon.”
Easing out my fingers, I crawl up his body to suck on his lower lip. “It’s like you can read my mind,” I say. I straddle him, up on my knees, so Grant can work me open, so I’m ready when it’s his turn to have me.