“Yeah. I wanted to see his douche bag ass on the floor.”
“Fuck, Kat. Marry me.” I gasped. “It doesn’t have to be now, but promise me one day, you’ll marry me.”
It was my turn to freeze and it was like a whale’s tail had just slammed into my chest and if I wasn’t against the wall, I’d have staggered back. He wanted to marry me?
“Don’t look so shocked.” I cried out when he nipped my neck—hard and then tenderly licked and suckled. That would leave a mark and my guess was that was what he intended. “Where did you think this was leading? I want you to be my wife more than anything. I was waiting to ask you when I knew for certain you’d say yes.”
I raised my brows. “So now you’re certain I’ll say yes?”
“Fuck yeah. You stuck up for me, then slapped that slimeball across the face. It was the most amazing sight I’ve ever seen. Even though I was pissed off as fuck that you had to do that, I was so turned on and proud of you all at the same time.” He kissed me again and this time it was so tender it made my knees weak. “I can’t wait to make you my wife, and yeah, I trust that you’re going to say yes.” He paused and made sure I looked at him before he continued, “I’m fucked up, baby. My past is shit and even though you don’t know all of it, you get that. I’ve been dead for all these years and you’ve cracked through the shell. I can’t ever go back into that darkness.”
“Is that where you go sometimes?”
He flinched and I waited. “Yeah.”
“You going to tell me at some point?”
“Yeah, baby.”
“Okay.” It was enough for now. At least he admitted that there was something.
Then it was my turn to kiss him and moan and feel the emotions sinking into me. It was deep and real and raw—it was us.
I let my legs slide down until my feet touched the floor. Then he yanked my dress up to my waist as I undid his pants and pulled a condom from his pocket and slipped it on him. Then he lifted me up again, his hands squeezing my ass, as he sunk deep in one thrust.
I groaned in pain-pleasure at the sudden intrusion. Then he moved inside me and I kissed him, forgetting all about Lance, the gallery, and all the guests outside the door.
It was fast and hot and it was Ream making it known I was his, but he didn’t need to prove it anymore. I was his. He was a little screwed up, but so was I, and he was mine.
Neither of us said anything as he straightened my dress, and I zipped up his pants. Then I smiled, meeting his eyes that still burned with desire. “Yes.”
He grinned. “Fuck, yeah.”
***
He stroked my head, slow caresses that made me want to vomit. But I’d done that already. I had nothing left in my stomach.
“You know what to do.” He touched himself and it jerked.
I did. It had been eight months and I’d learned what was expected of me.
I slid down and lay like I was supposed to.
Then I did what he wanted while he held my head making certain I didn’t pull away.
It was three days after the gallery incident and Ream invited me to the recording studio. Emily was going too because the boys had a new song and they wanted us to hear it. Logan was pretty damn hot singing—shit, he was mesmerizing—but Ream … Ream was serious and intense and he became the music, as if his guitar was a part of him. The day he’d sung to me at the pub was something special, and I’d take that over him singing with the band any day. But this was exciting too, and I couldn’t wait to hear what they were recording.
Emily and I met them there around six before they wrapped up for the evening, and we were introduced to Dan, the sound guy, who patiently explained to us what he was doing; although all I saw were thousands of buttons and switches.
The band went on the other side of the glass, and after ten minutes Dan asked if they were ready. Logan nodded.
I sat beside Emily on one of the high stools, and we tapped our feet to the music. It had a slow feel to it, except when it came to the chorus and then the guys’ voices got all raspy and deep sending goose bumps across my skin. My eyes never left Ream, and I didn’t think it was possible to fall in love with him any more, but I did. And I got what Emily had been saying about falling in love with Logan all over again every night while on tour.
Ream … There was something about him when he sang, there was that hint of unsteady darkness he always had lingering.
Okay, he was also super-hot. Tats, guitar … I got why the women were all over him. I’d have to deal with that because despite trusting him, I knew I’d be jealous.
The song was magnetic and touching, the words hauntingly beautiful, about a woman broken and torn and her fight to find her way back. Then a man who will never give up on her, how pieces of him die every time she cries. How they find one another and heal. It wasn’t like anything I’d heard before. When I looked at Emily she was crying.
“Our guys did good.” I reached over and wiped away the tears with the pad of my finger.
“He wrote it for our wedding,” Emily said.
“Damn, missy. That’s hot.” I looked back through the window and Logan stood at the microphone, his hands wrapped around it while Ream talked to him, but his eyes were on Emily.
Then Ream looked at me and I smiled giving him a thumb’s up and mouthing, “You’re mine.” He must have got it because he half grinned then winked.