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His lips quip up. “No need. I got it. But you need to get I don’t give a fuck. I love you.”
My eyes are now burning.
“You gonna let me love you?”
I nod.
“You gonna love me back?”
I continue nodding because I don’t think I can speak.
He pulls Mama June’s box from his pocket, and then Leland Locke drops down on one knee. “Gwendolyn York, you and I are gonna Locke this down, deal?”’
“Deal.”
“Can’t believe I’m putting this ring on my fucking dream girl.” He laughs as he slides it on my finger.
I wiggle my finger. “Perfect fit.”
“Seriously?” he asks as he looks it over.
“It is,” I say, taking his face in my hands and rubbing my thumb over his thick lower lip, and then he slowly stands.
“Gonna kiss you.”
“Deal.”
As he cups my face and lifts my chin with his thumb, leans down, and presses his lips to my forehead, he says, “I love you so much.”
“Love you,” I whisper, closing my eyes as he tips my head back further and outlines my lips with his tongue, wetting them.
He groans as he slides his lips across mine, and the feel of his hot breath on my skin makes my body hum as he glides his tongue back across before sucking my lower lip into his mouth, causing my nipples to tighten and pucker beneath my sleep tee and cardigan.
I grip his hips, wanting him closer, needing him closer as his hand moves from my cheek to the back of my head, gripping it as he dips his tongue inside my mouth, the place where his groan is met with my moan and our hungry tongues meet each other once again.
Behind us, I hear cheering, clapping, and whistling.
We smile against each other’s lips, and he growls when he breaks our kiss.
“They’re all on the deck, watching.” Then he points up. “Marks has a drone flying around up there.”
“What?” I laugh, thinking he’s joking, until I look up and see the damn thing.
“Getting pictures.”
“Why would he do that?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Might have asked him to.” He moves me in front of him and pulls me against him. “Hold that hand up.”
“Are you really going to take selfies?”
“Damn right I am. The gram needs to know I finally got the girl.”
“You don’t post shit like?—”
“We’re not shit.”
“Fine, and only because my nails look good, but if you post my jacked-up face next to your perfect one, I’m going to start withholding sex before I even say I do.”
