California Dreamin'

My breath escapes in a rush. “Wife?”

“Yeah. I’ll tell him that, Tiny. I’ll tell your dad that I’m going to make his daughter my wife.”

Why does that sound so sexy and possessive? So caveman-ish.

I’ll make your daughter my wife…

It makes me bite my lip so hard that I almost taste metal. “You’re going to make me your wife?”

He cups my chin and makes me let go of my abused lip with his thumb. Leaning in, he kisses that spot, licks it better. “Yeah, just as soon as I think of a proposal better than yours. The one from all those years ago.”

I chuckle brokenly. Yeah, proposing to a seventeen-year-old boy when I was three was pretty stupid.

But he doesn’t return it. He doesn’t chuckle or laugh or smile.

In fact, he looks more serious than ever, his gaze so penetrating. “I never forgot that day. Even when I wanted to. It was always with me, in the back of my mind.”

I swallow. “Maybe because you knew we were going to be here someday.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

There’s a moment of silence between us. It’s not uncomfortable or awkward but it’s rippling with tension. A friction caused by so many things.

From this burning lust that I know will go unfulfilled and from the fact that in a little bit, he’ll be standing at my door, returning me to my parents safely while he plans to talk to my dad tomorrow.

A shiver skates down my spine, a shiver of apprehension. “What if… What if my dad gets mad again? I’m not supposed to be here and… What if he says no?”

For a few seconds, he remains silent and still; only his eyes are moving, all over my face.

“Then I’ll beg,” he growls. “I’ll get down on my knees and beg him. I’ll beg him to give me you. I’ll beg and fight until he does. Because I’m fighting for the right thing now. I’m fighting for you.”

He looks like a warrior in this moment. My warrior.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt so cherished and loved. So feminine and prized.

And a tear escapes out the corner of my eye because I love him so much and I don’t want him to have to beg but I know he will if he has to.

He’ll wipe my tears off if he has to as well. Which he does. He catches my tears with his tongue and sucks them down.

“I love you,” I whisper.

He replies back not with words but with a kiss.

A kiss that inflames every part of my body. It inflames my lust for him. It wakes up my body, makes it sensitive.

So sensitive that it’s hard to bear.

And he knows it because breaking the kiss, he moves down my body. Keeping our eyes connected, he unzips my jacket and works on the buttons of my jeans.

“But you said…” I gasp when his fingers hook in my belly button and tug at it.

It’s like tugging a string connected to my clit, flooding my core.

“I know what I said,” he whispers, lowering my jeans and my panties. “I said I won’t fuck you and I’m not.”

He manages to get my pants off and away, leaving my thighs bare. “Then what are you doing?”

Smirking, he jams himself between my legs, which I wrap around his shoulders, my heels coming down to his back. “You were worried I didn’t have a nice dinner, weren’t you?”

I fist his dark hair, squirming, finally getting the feel of his soft sheets. “Yeah.”

“Well, I am now.” He reaches my clit with his tongue and takes a swipe. “I’m eating my dinner.”

Simon is standing at the edge of his backyard, overlooking the preparations for tonight’s get-together.

The forecast says that it’s going to be warmer—a couple of warm days before the snowstorm comes in—so Willow wanted to move things to the backyard. And when it comes to Willow, Simon can perform miracles. So getting a few people to come help set up on Christmas Eve was no big deal for him.

I understand that.

I’ve always felt the same for Fallon. If she wants something, she should get it. And I should be the one to give it to her.

There’s a pride in that. A possessiveness. Happiness.

At least Simon and I have that in common. So even if he doesn’t like me being with Fallon, he might at least understand why I can’t let his daughter go.

Why she’s mine and I’m not letting anything stand in our way.

Not even him.

I push open the glass door and step outside. There are people milling about, setting up tables and chairs, stringing lights up on the trees. Even though there was snow a couple of days before, the backyard looks nice and clean.

I come to stand beside Simon.

We’re both silent but I know he’s aware of my presence. Together we watch the proceedings in front of us, the bustle so early in the morning.