Savage Love (Savage Island 2)

She grins. “I can’t really imagine that.” Then she bites her lip and smiles at me. “Or maybe I can.” She giggles when I give her a mock glare. “I loved writing, and I’m dying to get back to it,” she says thoughtfully. “But I’ve… changed, too.” She bites her lip and pauses. I give her the space she needs to process this. “I haven’t changed who I am at the core,” she says, “though I’ll admit I have a much better… appreciation for the alpha male.”

I laugh so hard she startles. “Appreciation, is it? I’ll give you appreciation.” She giggles and tries to block me when I reach for her, but her efforts are half-hearted. We’ve been apart from each other too long. Too fucking long. And we need to come together again. I pin her beneath me, and just like that, I want in her. I want to connect in the most intimate way, bring us back together.

“Cy, I have no birth control,” she whispers. “But I’m… I’m okay with that.”

I nod. “I am, too, baby. I’m more than fucking okay with it. I want everything with you. A home. A baby. A new life. I guess you could argue it’s too soon, but—”

“There’s no ‘too soon’ when you know,” she supplies.

And it’s more than that. Living on that island, surviving, trying to make it to the next day and the next, one after another, has given me an appreciation for the present. I don’t want to wait anymore. I don’t want life to pass me by, either. I want to live in the present and revel in the beautiful simplicities of life with Harper. And I know her well enough now to say that she likely feels the same. Our life on the island was so much waiting for something, for the next step in our journey, to life beyond our imprisonment.

And now, we’re set free. I won’t wait for a future with Harper. I won’t wait for the perfect moment. The perfect moment is now.

I lean down to kiss her, the familiar fire between us flaring to life, when a knock comes at the door.

“For fuck’s sake,” I groan, and she laughs. I was starving a minute ago, now I have a totally different appetite to satisfy. Still, we have to answer the door.

Grumbling, I get out of bed and pull on a pair of pants, adjust my damn hard-on, walk to the door, and open it. A uniformed waiter holds a large silver tray.

“Your breakfast, sir. If you’d allow me to come in and set it up, I will—”

“All set, thank you,” I say, taking the tray and practically slamming the door in his face.

Harper snorts. “You could’ve said ‘get out of my way, I’m going to fuck my girl after we stuff our faces,’ and it might’ve been more polite than that.”

I grin at her. “Who said I’m going to let you eat first?”

“Cyyyy,” she moans. I stand, holding the steaming hot tray in my hand, looking at how beautiful she is, all tousled hair and graceful limbs, her eyes still heavy with sleep, and a line straight across her cheek from where the blanket must’ve pressed against her. She’s adorable. Fucking gorgeous.

“You didn’t answer me,” I say. I need an answer. I want to know.

“Marry you?” she asks, delicate brows rising while her eyes widen. “Is there any question?”

There sure as fuck is. Is she sure she wants this?

I walk to the side of the bed and sit with her. “Baby,” I tell her. “Of course, there is. You have a life here. A brother you’re guardian to. A job. You built this independent life here, and you have to be sure—”

“Cy Kaufman,” she says, fire licking at her eyes as she sits up in bed, letting the blanket fall. “Don’t you dare.”

“Dare what?” I say. God, I love this girl’s passion and intensity.

“Get all—” she makes a face, her nose wrinkling as if she’s eaten spoiled food. “Practical on me.”

I slide the food on the huge bed and reach for her hand. “Practical?” I ask.

“All my life I’ve only ever been with practical men, who invested in 401k’s and—”

Yeah, no. We are not going there. Not now.

“If you say one more word about any other man who’s ever been in your life, I’ll drag you right across my knee right here,” I tell her, and I mean it. “I proposed to you, woman. And I want a fucking answer.”

She grins at me. “So that’s what it takes, is it? There he is,” she says softly. “That’s my man. All caveman alpha possessive.”

I reach for her hair and give her a good, sharp tug.

“Need to remind you a thing or two, don’t I?”

“Maybe we need to remind each other,” she whispers. “And the answer, my love, is yes.”