Harmony and High Heels (Fort Worth Wranglers 2)

Her breath left her in a rush, and she lightly kicked him in the shoulder. “Bastard.”

He grinned. “I’m sorry, but I really want to get laid and that handcuff seriously limits my options.”

“You’re pretty confident about getting laid. Who says this whole scenario is about sex? Can’t a girl just handcuff herself to her boyfriend’s car? Maybe I’m working on my tan.” Harmony was the only girl in the world who could pull off nonchalance while handcuffed to the hood of a car.

“Oh, I’m so getting laid.” He slid his hand up the inside of her thigh, stroked his fingers along her wet, bare sex. “You wouldn’t have shown up here without underwear if I wasn’t going to get laid.”

“I don’t know about that. It’s hot and I’m wearing leather.” She spread her legs a little, then moaned when he slipped a finger inside of her. “Get me off, and I’ll tell you.”

“Tell me, and I’ll get you off.”

“You don’t really think I’m going to give in that easily, do you?”

He grinned. “I think you already have.” He slipped a second finger inside of her, just to prove his point.

Harmony was no pushover, and it wasn’t long before he was frantic to be inside of her. He circled her clit once, twice, a third time, then nearly came in his pants as she flew over the edge right there on the hood of his Maserati.

As he watched her fly, her beautiful face alight with pleasure and love and more joy than he’d ever seen, he promised himself that he was going to get the whole damn car bronzed.

Later, after she’d whispered the location of the key to the handcuffs into his ear and they were finally at home and tucked up safe in his bed, he rolled over and opened the drawer to his nightstand.

“Harmony, I’ve got another question to ask you.” It was time to make an honest woman out of her.

“No.”

“You mean no, you don’t want to hear the question?” He wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“I mean the answer to your question is no.” She knitted her fingers behind her head and lay back like she didn’t have a care in the world.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask you.” His hand trembled a little as he reached for the small, light-blue box that had been sitting in this drawer since the day after they first made love.

“It doesn’t matter. After that stunt you pulled earlier, you’ll be lucky if I ever say yes to anything you ask ever again.”

“But I really want you to say yes to this question.”

She snorted. “And I really want to ride a rocket ship to the moon, but I’m pretty sure that shit’s not happening either.”

Figuring they’d be there all day if he didn’t take matters into his own hands, Dalton rolled over on top of her and kissed her until she didn’t have enough breath left to form sounds, let alone actual sentences. And then he pressed the box into her hand.

Her eyes widened. “You better not be fucking with me again.”

“I’m not.”

“I mean it, Dalton. If you’re messing with me, I will make your miserable for the rest of your life.”

“I would expect nothing less.” He kissed her again, this time soft and sweet and so, so perfect. “I’m not messing you,” he whispered against her lips. “I swear.”

She nodded and only then did she bring her hand up to see the small Tiffany’s box he’d handed her. “Is this—”

“I love you, Harmony Marie Wright. I think I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you, and I know I’ll love you until the last breath I take. Marry me.”

Her eyes narrowed and she shoved against his chest until she could hitch up on her elbows. “That didn’t sound like a question.”

“What?”

“I said, that didn’t sound like a question. And If you don’t have a question, then I don’t have an answer.”

He laughed. He couldn’t help himself. Harmony really was one of a kind. “I’m sorry, baby. Let me try this again. I love you, Harmony, and I want to spend the rest of my life making you the happiest woman alive. Please, please, please, will you marry me?”