Hard Fall (Trophy Boyfriends 2)

“You’re serious?” She studies my face.

“Dead serious.” I study her stomach. “Don’t you want babies?”

“Oh come on now, that’s not fair—you can’t bring sweet babies into this. That’s manipulation.”

I’ll say whatever it takes to get her to say yes, short of bribery, that is.

“I’m just saying…we could start trying for a family tonight.” I run a hand up her thigh and don’t stop until it’s spanning the flat plain of her belly.

An eye roll. “I am not showing up at my wedding pregnant.”

“So you’re saying we’re having a wedding.”

“I’m saying…” She bites her bottom lip as the hand on her stomach begins doing slow circles. Moves up to cup her breast. “Stop that—I’m trying to think.”

I lean over to kiss her nipple.

“Shit…I can’t think when you’re doing that.”

“Marry me,” I say.

“I…” Her throat constricts when she swallows. “Want to.”

“You want to marry me?”

A nod. “Yes.”

Holy fuck. I asked her to marry me and she said yes! Holy balls, my mother is going to lose her mind with excitement at the thought of a wedding to plan! And, I beat my brother Tripp to the altar, so he can suck my balls. Win-win.

“Who the hell gets engaged after knowing someone three weeks?” she muses. “My father is going to be furious.”

Since when do I give a shit what her old man thinks? He might be starting to come around, but he’s still a pompous prick.

“When are you going to stop caring what your dad thinks?” I roll her onto her back and gaze down at her. My fiancée. “He is not in control of your future—you are.”

She looks up at me, pretty eyes softening. “You really are…” She gulps. “An incredible man.”

Not one single person has ever said that to me before. Not one.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you. You’re my fucking fiancée.”

She kisses me then with a laugh as I climb on top of her.

Hollis, my beautiful future wife.

The future Mrs. Wallace.

Hollis Walla—

“Oh my god.” I clamp my lips shut.

The delicate hands on my ass stop trailing up my spine. “What?”

No way in hell am I bringing up that horrible name, not unless I want her changing her mind, and I absolutely do not. Nope. We are getting married and I don’t want her saying no.

“We’re having a wedding,” I say, kissing the corner of her mouth—it’s her favorite spot to be kissed. “You’re marrying me.”

“We’re getting married!”

And now comes the fun part: the planning.

The End