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"Memphis," she gasps into my mouth, clinging to me. She kisses me back, though, just as fucking greedy and desperate as I am.
"Come here," I demand, pulling her toward the stage.
"What? No way!" she protests, struggling in my arms. But she's no match for me, and I've got plans for her.
I lift her up gently, giving her a playful swat on the ass.
"Jesus Christ, Memphis," Dalton says with a laugh. "There are some things I don't need to fucking see."
"No one needs to see me!" Kylie cries.
But the crowd spots us and roars in approval.
"Clearly, they want to see more of you, Toto," I say, smirking at her.
"I hate you, Memphis Hughes," she growls, but I know it's bullshit. She loves the fuck out of me. She risked her life to keep me safe. That knowledge may haunt me for the rest of my damn life. But I idolize her for it too. No one has ever loved me that way. But this mouthy little thing does.
"Behave for five minutes, and I'll remind you just how much you love me and my cock, Toto," I growl into her ear, nipping it for emphasis as I haul her out onto the stage.
Winter spots us coming and shakes her head, laughter bubbling from her lips. "What are you up to, Memphis?" she asks, eyeing Kylie in my arms.
"I need to borrow that mic, Winter," I say, nodding toward the microphone in her hand.
She starts to hand it over, pauses, and then lifts it to her lips. "PSA, I'm not responsible for him or anything he says or does," she announces into it and then hands it over, grinning at me.
The crowd roars with laughter.
Setting Kylie down, I drop to my knees before her. A hush falls over the crowd, their anticipation palpable.
"What are you doing, Memphis?" Kylie whispers nervously, her eyes searching mine for answers.
"This isn't the first time I've been on my knees for you, princess," I reply into the mic, earning a mix of laughter and cheers from the audience as her cheeks blaze red. I wait for them to quiet down, my gaze never leaving hers. "We both know it's where I belong. You own me, princess. Every goddamn miserable inch is yours."
"Memphis," she whispers, her voice catching as I reach into my pocket and pull out the ring.
"I've been waiting for the perfect moment to give this to you, but that isn't our way. We don't wait for perfect moments, Toto. We make the goddamn things ourselves." My voice is steady. I'm not nervous or anxious. I've considered this moment a thousand times, and I fucking want it. "So I'm making one now. And I'm doing it in front of sixty-thousand witnesses so you can't kick my ass for not giving you a choice in the matter." I smirk up at her, holding the ring between my fingers. "You're marrying me, Kylie Conroy. It's not a question. You belong with me. And we know damn well that I'm yours. So how about you put this ring on your finger and put me out of my fuckin' misery already?"
"Aww," sixty-thousand people all shout at the same time, but I don't pay them any attention. All my focus is on Kylie.
Her eyes fill with tears, and she nods. "Yes," she whispers, the word barely audible. But I hear it reverberating like a gong in my soul.
Relief floods through me as I press my head to her hand before slipping the ring onto her finger.
The crowd erupts into cheers, their approval echoing through the arena as I scoop her up into my arms, crushing my lips to hers. Our kiss is frantic, urgent, tinged with the promise of tomorrow and clouded with desire.
"I'm calling in that favor now, Memphis," she breathes against my lips, her nails digging into my shoulders.
"Name it," I growl, my cock throbbing.
"You inside me. Now," she orders.
"Oh, fuck, yeah," I agree without hesitation, stomping toward the back of the stage with her in my arms.
She squeals with laughter, wrapping her arms around my neck. "I love you, Memphis Hughes."
"I love you too, Toto. You and that little kitty, too."
Five minutes later, the door to my dressing room slams shut behind us with a resounding thud, shutting out everyone but me and her. Within seconds, I've got her back pressed against the cold metal of the door.
