“Scott, I –”
“Ssshhh,” he hushes, dipping his thumb into his come before returning to my clit to stroke me in lazy circles. “This is mine.” He uses his other hand to part my slick folds, to fondle and caress. “And if I want to watch you come,” he insinuates two fingers at my opening and starts pushing forward, “I will.”
I groan as his fingers slip in deep. Under his watchful eye, with an infuriating amount of patience, he very deliberately brings me off. By the end, I’m completely wrung out and in my slightly stupefied state, I accidentally squeeze his injured hand. He winces and I’m reminded that he needs medical attention.
“Come on,” I tell him, trying to push off my exhaustion. “Let’s get in the shower.”
He doesn’t argue, just follows me into the bathroom where I start the water in the shower and then take his hand in mine. “Can you move it?”
Flexing his fingers gingerly, he nods. “It’s fine.” The gruffness in his voice has me pulling his hand to my mouth to kiss the space above his knuckles. “And the other guy?”
Irritably, he pulls the shower curtain farther back and gestures for me to get in. “What about him?”
He lets me warm up under the water first, but once we’ve switched places, I ask him again. “Is that Daniel guy okay?”
Wiping the water from his face, he shoots me a look that’s part glare, part concern. “The more important question, El, is if you’re okay.”
“Me?” Though I’m almost certain of my answer, with the sound of the water falling around us, I take my time to consider his words. “I think so. The more I think about it, the more I realize he had no intention of actually using the gun. He just wanted us to listen.”
“That doesn’t make it okay.”
“I didn’t say it did. I’m saying it makes me feel better to find a sliver of sanity in a haystack of madness.”
He studies me closely as if checking for any sign that I’m brushing off the seriousness of what happened. He must not find anything because his expression morphs into something much softer before he nods. “Okay. If it starts to get to you, will you tell me?”
How I love this man. “I will,” I say, tipping up on my toes to kiss him. “But that doesn’t mean you’re getting out of telling me what happened tonight.”
The corners of his mouth turn down. “Doesn’t matter what happened. It’s over and done with.”
He can’t be serious, can he? He comes to me hurt and clearly upset, talking about life altering changes, but expects to keep an important part of the catalyst to himself? I cross my arms and wait.
With barely contained frustration, he huffs out, “I . . . I just . . . roughed him up a bit. Alejandro didn’t let me get carried away or anything.”
Our eyes meet, and I can feel the dominance in him flare again. He’s daring me to make a fuss, to question his judgment or maybe his right to do what he feels is necessary to protect me and the girls. Or is he thinking I’d object to Alejandro’s involvement?
I nod. “Okay. Thank you for telling me.”
He squints at me with suspicion.
With a flicker of amusement, I reach for his injured hand again. “Were you expecting me to scold you?” I ask, gently cleaning the blood away with soap. He grimaces slightly, but doesn’t otherwise acknowledge the pain. After a thorough inspection, I tell him, “I’m guessing you’ll live to see an–”
“Thank you,” he interrupts in a whisper.
My eyebrows lift in question.
“For not . . . scolding me. I know it wasn’t the right thing to do, but . . .” He swallows hard and when he can’t find the right words, he averts his gaze, his hand falling to his side.
“Hey,” I say softly, waiting for him to return his attention to me.
“I couldn’t not do it,” he tells me passionately, both defiance and entreaty flashing across his face. “Does that make sense?”
“It does, Scott,” I reassure him. “And I think I’m flattered that you care enough –”
“Care enough?” he echoes, glowering at me. “El, I love you.” He pauses as if to let that sink in, as if I’ve been underestimating the true depths of his feelings all this time. “You’re everything to me. Without you, I . . .” He shakes his head, not wanting to contemplate the idea. “I want you with me always. I want you to marry me.”
I feel my lips part and my heart beat stutter.
His hands cup my face, and instead of the quick retraction I’m fully expecting, he plows forward. “I want it to be official. I want the whole world to know how much I love you, that I’d do anything to keep you safe. Tell me that you’ll marry me, El.”
“Are you serious?” I whisper, stunned. I search his expression for any indication he’s teasing me. I might not have ever allowed myself to openly contemplate romantic, girly daydreams about a future with Scott McCarthy, but they’ve never been far from the surface. And to have something like that become real in one breath only to be taken away in the next would surely put a very big dent in my heart. “Do you mean it?”
“Every word.” Leaning in to place a gentle kiss on my mouth, he looks so confident. Like he doesn’t have a single doubt that I’m the one. “What do you say? Will you be my wife?”
A clichéd, involuntary gasp pops out of me. “Your wife,” I repeat as goosebumps appear on my arms. “You’d be my husband.”
He laughs. “That’s generally how it works.”
How is he not more shaken up by this? How is he taking this all in stride, like he asks women to marry him every other day?
“You going to leave me hanging here, sweetness? I know I don’t have a ring for you, but –”
“What? God, Scott. I don’t need a ring. I just need you. And, yes, of course I’ll be your wife.” A frisson of delight travels down my spine, a sensation that only grows when his smiling mouth comes for mine. And it’s a kiss to end all kisses, so full of joy and wonder, and our inevitable desire for each other. In between the kissing, we fumble with the soap and use the shower as an excuse to re-explore every inch of each other.
“Are we crazy?” he asks me as he helps me out of the shower. “Is eight months enough time to know?”
Grabbing a towel, I start drying his chest. “I’ve always known,” I say with teasing arrogance, making my way around to his back.
“Please,” he says and I love that I know he’s rolling his eyes.
“It’s true. Ever since you threatened to take me to Applebee’s.”
His laughter rings like music in my ears. “I thought you were a huge pain in the ass,” he claims. “With your bright smile and your annoying optimism, you were like a bad rash I couldn’t shake.”
“Shut up,” I scoff good-naturedly, pinching his delectable, naked ass.
He reaches back and pulls me to stand in front of him, a grin firmly in place. “The truth is I couldn’t get enough of you. I still can’t, and I don’t see that ever –”
I catch the rest of his words with my mouth, letting them stopper up this euphoric happiness that’s bubbling inside of me.