Page 122 of Moros

We eventually went home, showered and slept.

I woke the next morning to Ryanne sitting on the bed massaging the soles of her feet and groaning. After kissing her neck, I rushed to the bathroom then brushed my teeth before joining her again on the bed while carrying a bottle of lotion.

Setting up the pillows, I had her rest her back against them then sat at the foot of the bed with her feet in my lap. I massage the soles of her feet, digging the balls of my thumbs into the soft spots and listening to her moan softly.

“I love heels, but they hurt.” She sighed, her eyes closed.

“Pasha always carries these flats in her purse.” I told her.

“Yeah, but they don’t make my ass look like—Pow!” She flared her fingers and thrust her chest dramatically forward.

I laughed.

Together, we lingered in bed and around lunch time, we finally crawled out for food and to shower and dressed. Even then, we didn’t leave the bedroom except for drinks and snacks. We’d placed our phones on silent, left the laptops in the office and decided to focus on each other.

I was using her bum as a table for my bowl of popcorn when I set a red velvet box on my pillow in front of her face.

At first, she continued regaling me with the tale of when she’d gone to the hairdresser that week to get her hair a good wash and treatment. It had been her first time going and that morning as I dropped her off, she was practically bouncing off the wall.

“Um—baby cakes?”

“Mm?”

“What’s this?” She asked, slowly, cautiously.

“Today is the day I try stop living without you.” I informed her, crawling up the bed to lay beside her with the ring between us. “What was it Beyonce said—if you liked it then you should’ve put a ring on it?”

She giggled.

Ryanne sat up, dumping my snacks.

I didn’t mind—I’ll punish her by using her as a snack later.

Right now, my heart raced as my nerves kicked in.

What if she didn’t want me that desperately?

What if she said no?

“Well?” I asked. “I’m dying here.”

“Well, what?” Ryanne blinked. “You didn’t ask. I deserve to be asked.”

Blushing, I hung my head before pushing to my knees on the bed.

“Ryanne Larwick.”

She sat up to face me.

The grin on her face was brighter than the sun.

“Will you marry?—”

“Don’t be silly!” She launched herself at me. “Of course!”

“You haven’t even seen the ring yet.”

Ryanne clung tighter to me. “The ring isn’t important. I’m going to be Mrs. Weston—or is it Larwick Weston? I want to carry on my father’s name since he didn’t get the chance to?—”

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