adds.
“Tenacious,” I shoot back.
“Proud,” she says.
“Spirited.”
She shakes her head. “You're turning a blind eye to my faults, what few you know about. You have no idea about the rest. Don't you remember the conversation we had earlier? About wanting to believe the fantasy?”
“No, I see what you're calling 'faults' as strengths,” I say, making air quotes. “I'm not denying them. What other so-called faults are there? I'll tell you mine. I have many, but I'll start with the obvious first. I never take no for an answer. I'm stubborn as hell. When I want something I do whatever it takes to have it--”
“Like me?” she asks, cutting me off.
“Like you,” I confess with a nod.
“So this trip...?”
I nod again. Maybe she'll hate me for this. Fuck, I hope she doesn't. But I have to tell her the truth if she's going to trust me. “We're not here to have a little dinner and then fly home. I will get my way.”
Her lips pull into a thin line. “Meaning, I'll accept your proposal? Or what?”
A lump forms in my throat. Her tone is changing. I hear it. And I see the tension building in her face and body. But I won't sugar coat the truth. “Or we won't leave.”
She visibly swallows. “You're holding me hostage?”
“Am I?” I sweep an arm, indicating our magnificent surroundings. “Is this the kind of place one keeps a hostage?”
She folds her arms over her chest. “Okay, you got me on that one. It's the kind of place you go on a vacation. But that doesn't change the fact that I can't leave.”
“Actually, you can leave.” I shrug. “After you give me what I want.”
She shakes her head. Still, that shy smile is back. So far, so good. She doesn't hate me yet. “Why? Why are you so hellbent on marrying me ? A girl you barely know?”
“We went through this already.” I take one of her hands in mine, turning it palm up, and place the box in it. “Just accept. I want you. You want me. Why should we play around?”
She scoots her chair back and stands.
She sets the box on the table.
Damn. I'm not getting my yes. Not yet.
But that's okay. I'll fight for it.
I watch her walk to the edge of the deck. She grips the railing and stares straight ahead, at the glittering lake and the brilliant sky, painted shades of purple and salmon. I step behind her, slide my hands around her waist and scoop her hair into my hand, smoothing it over her shoulder. “What are you afraid of?” I ask, trailing little butterfly kisses down the side of her neck.
She shivers. Goose bumps coat her shoulder and arm but she doesn't move away. No, she leans back, into me. Feeling her soft ass pillowed against my thigh makes my cock turn to concrete.
“I'm afraid of making a mistake,” she whispers.
“Everyone's afraid of that. And more than half the time they should be. But this is no mistake. This is real. And good. And forever.” I nuzzle her neck, inhaling deeply. I can't get enough of her. Of her scent. Her taste. Her touch.
She slowly turns, facing me. My hands rest on her waist as she shuffles around. “How can you be so sure?”
“I just am.” I pull her flush to me and slant my mouth over hers. I'm going to go fucking nuts, kissing her but not taking her. But I can't help myself. I'm addicted to this woman.
At first she kisses me back shyly. Sweetly. I enjoy every second of the torture. But then she surrenders and her breathing rasps in the silence. I deepen the kiss and our tongues tangle and battle. With every thundering heartbeat my body grows hotter, tighter. My cock more rigid.
I'm fucking dying but I can't stop.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, tugging slightly, and I return the favor, fisting her silky strands and using the tension to keep her in place. “These lips are mine,” I murmur against her mouth. “This hair. Mine.” My right hand slides lower, down her neck, over her shoulder, lower to her breast. “Mine.” I pinch her nipple through her clothes and she whimpers.
Learning to Kill: Stories