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“Fuck you, you’re not the demon you think you are.”
“And you’re not the good girl, are you?”
Heat streaks through me as he spins me around. “Malone,” I whisper.
He kisses me, a soft, sweet kiss full of promises he doesn’t know how to voice.
“I fucking left the city for three weeks. And I missed you. Every fucking minute of every fucking day. Not one woman could catch my attention. They weren’t you. But I stayed away because, fuck, Red. You deserved better. You do deserve better.”
“Do you really love me?”
“With every cell in my body. I… Love is fucking chaos and I thrive on that. But shit, that kind of chaos is living on the edge. You know you’re better without me and now… now you’ve made me admit I love you, and how the fuck do I let you go?”
“You don’t.”
“I watched a rope display, and all I could think and see was you. How perfect you were. I want that with you naked. I want you up there and me fucking you. I’m not the happy house guy.”
“Just because I make cupcakes,” I say, “doesn’t mean I want that, either.”
“What the fuck do we do now?”
The great, strong, dominating man is asking me that?
My heart swells.
“What the fuck do we do? You deserve the world, Scarlett.”
“No, I deserve you.” I look up at him and rise up, kissing him.
His arms come around me and he drags me back into the apartment, his lips plastered against mine the entire time. Then he slams the door and pushes me up against it. “I don’t live here, by the way.”
“No shit.”
“Brat.”
“Do you want to be with me for a day? A month? A lifetime? Because…” I stop and take a breath. “I know what we do.”
“And what’s that?”
I slide my arms around his neck, and he brings one up to circle my throat and it’s like coming home, the endorphins strap on wings and fly.
“Marry me?”
He squeezes, light, firm, perfect. I can breathe but I feel it. His strength. His ownership. My belonging.
“Are you proposing, Scarlett?”
“Yes.”
He grabs me and swings me around, guiding me toward the sofa in the living room. I reach for his jeans once I’m rested against the plush cushion, but he just gives me a hard look. “You know better than that. I want you to ask again. Properly.”
“Marry me… Sir?”
“Oh, Baby Red. Yes. Fucking yes. On your hands and knees.”
The euphoria is strong like the vanilla in the air from the cakes cooling in the kitchen. He flips up my skirt. I know I’m wet. The moment he put his hand around my neck, heated desire pooled between my legs.
He tears off my panties and thrusts his beautiful, hard cock into me, shuddering to a stop when he’s balls deep.
