Page 17 of Fake Fiancé, Real Wedding
Hell, I never want to be without her. The thought of a life without her feisty energy, her caring warmth… It’s no life at all.
Resting my weight as much as I can on my elbows, I brush a damp strand of her hair from her cheek. “Will you?”
Her lips curl. “Don’t you meandidyou?” She squeezes her thighs around my hips, her inner muscles squeezing my cock still embedded inside her. “And yes. I very much did.” She chuckles. “You couldn’t tell?”
“No,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over her bottom lip. “I mean, will you…”
Marry me?
“Stay the night?” I finish, throat tight. I can’t ask her to marry me. She’ll think I’m a sociopath. We’re still strangers to each other.
Does that matter? When it feels like this?
She stares up at me. Bites her bottom lip. And then, with a soft chuckle, she shrugs one shoulder. “When you ask so nicely, future husband, how can I say no?”
I suck in a slow breath and kiss her.
If I don’t, Iwillask her to be my wife, my future, my everything, and how could she say anything other thanno?
Chapter Twelve
Del
Waking up beside Lachlan is singularly the most wonderful and terrifying thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.
Even more wonderful and terrifying than when Synergy, the world’s biggest rock band, asked me to be in their latest music video after discovering my cosplay Instagram account.
I lie on my side in his bed, cheek resting on my arm, and trace his sleeping profile with my gaze.
I could spend the rest of my life looking at him. As absurd as it is, I’d marry him today if he asked. He's perfect. Sure, he’s older than me, but neither of us seem to care. The age differencecertainlywasn’t an issue last night.
After all the bone-melting sex—five orgasms! He gave me five orgasms!—we’d lain in bed, knees to knees, murmuring idle chitchat about our lives, our mutual geeky interests, and generally being utterly comfortable with each other before we both drifted off. I’ve never done that before. I’ve also never let anyone see me butt-naked after sex, always preferring to hidemy rolls under the sheets. I like how I feel aboutmewhen I’m with him. And good gravy, do I like him. A lot.
Warm sunbeams play over his sleeping face. His soft snores make me smile. Maybe, when he wakes up,Ishould tell him how I?—
Holy shit, what time is it?
Scrambling off the massive bed, I stare at the windows.
With the amount of sunlight streaming through them, there’s no chance in hell it’s earlier than six a.m., the prearranged time I’m meeting Stevie to go over her wedding-day schedule.
Spying my tiny bag peeking out from under my discarded wings and tutu, I snatch it up, withdraw my phone, and groan.
It’s 7:42 a.m., I’ve got two missed calls from Stevie, and…
My stomach clenches. My Instagram fan has sent me another text, this one only ninety minutes ago.
Wakey wakey.
“Weird,” I whisper. “Andcreepy.” Alienating a follower or not, I’m going to have to do something about it, but it’s the least of my concerns right now. Stevie’s waiting. Maybe even worrying.
From the bed, Lachlan lets out another soft snore.
I chew on my bottom lip. The walk of shame through the resort dressed as a punk fairy with I’ve-just-been-shagged hair was not on my agenda for the day. Shoving my phone back into my bag, I snatch up his discarded Henley from the floor and pull it down over my head.
The hem falls to mid-thigh, an impromptu mini dress, and I let out a low chuckle. Damn, he reallyisa giant.
Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I rake my fingers through my hair, rub at my teeth with my index finger, andthen steal a few heartbeats to gaze at Lachlan, still asleep. Still perfect.
