I snuggle against his shoulder, pulling the blanket closer around me as his arm likewise snakes around my midriff. His hand tightens on my side, playing with the waistline of my jeans. “Is it weird that I was starting to get used to thinking of you as my wife?” He continues before I can say anything. “I mean, it started as a joke in my head to cope with what was happening, but then it started feeling... natural. I meant what I said earlier, Katie. I think you’re the only woman in the world who could ever be my wife.”
I stiffen in his hold. “You’re not proposing to me again, are you?”
He takes my right hand, the one with the promise ring on it, and kisses it. His eyes never leave mine. “Maybe I’ll propose to you every day until you say yes.”
“You’d be waiting a while.”
“I don’t care. I can wait.”
I want to laugh, but the look on his face is hardly smarmy. “You’re serious?”
“Katie, I don’t joke about that sort of thing. I’m serious. You wanna get married? Let me know. I’ll be the happiest man in the world, and the most stressed, because I don’t even want to think about telling my mother that we’re getting married for real.”
“Oh, God, she would buy us the townhouse next to hers and furnish it with nursery equipment. Every room. Babies.”
“She can buy us whatever she wants. Doesn’t mean we’re moving in, Mrs. Mathers.”
“You did not...”
Laughing, he nearly spills his champagne all over my lap. I’m this close to smacking him on the chest, but then he kisses me, and it’s like I forget everything. He has that unfathomable power over me.
I could marry this man. One day. I did accept his promise ring a few months ago, after all. A ring that meant we pledged ourselves to one another. No one else. Monogamy for life. Unless, well... did you see that cute girl at the café this afternoon? Because I know Ian did. Surely there’s room for a little fun in our relationship.
I rub his thigh, coming close to the one thing causing me some havoc this week. “We can have sex now,” I whisper, acting as if it’s the most scandalous thing. “Unless you don’t want to. I wouldn’t blame you. All that dry humping and oral sex this past week... I wouldn’t want to stick it in me now. You probably need a few more days to recover.”
From the way he’s looking at me, I half expect him to kiss me to spite me. “I’ve been thinking about that all day, but now there’s no hurry. We have all night to make love like we’re meant to.”
“And we still didn’t legally consummate any marriage.”
This time his laugh is genuine. “God, that is such a stupid law. I love how I can stick it in your ass and it’s still not ‘sex’. What is this? A couple of supposed virgins trying to cling to the word for as long as possible, even if it’s dumb as shit?”
Hey, I know a few people like that. They even come to our local sex club, if you can believe it. I... ignore them. I’m more than happy to call what my boyfriend sticks in my other holes and what I do to his dick with my hands and mouth sex. That way I can say I have sex multiple times a week! What woman doesn’t want to get laid so many times she’s walking funny? All right, maybe that’s me.
(I doubt it.)
“It is dumb, but at least we didn’t lie to the judge.”
“That was dumb he asked you that.”
“Are you surprised? He was trying to humiliate me. Of course he came after my sexuality. It’s not the same if he does it to you.”
“I suppose not. Believe me, though, I wanted to strangle that asshole. He was being so unfair to you.”
“Let’s not dwell on it.” I snuggle deeper into his embrace, happy to feel his heat radiating against my face. “Let’s also not dwell on how much sex we had this week without you actually sticking it in.”
“It was kinda fun. Finding different ways to get off with you without going for the finale.”
“Yes. Fun. That’s it.”
“Hm? You telling me that you missed ol’ little Ian exploring your caves?”
“Ian...”
“Plundering your depths?”
“Stop it.”
“Ramming your tunnel?”
“I swear to God.”
“What? Am I not allowed to tell you all my fun euphemisms? Part of the fun of being married is getting to gross out your wife. I have decided this.”
“I am not your wife.”
He runs his fingers through my hair, long set free from its oppressive twist from earlier. “You could be. Tonight.”
“Huh? We are not eloping again.”