Page 97 of Resisting the Grump

I turned to face him. “Why write that truth, though?”

“Because I want everyone to know you’re mine,” he said, his eyes kissing my face. “Because I want you to know you’re mine.”

My heart swelled. “I know.”

He smiled.

“I’ve known since the moment I met you.”

F O R T YT W O

- Oliver -

It meant a lot to hear her say that, but it would mean even more if she could just admit—

“I love you, too, you know.”

I held her gaze until her cheeks blushed, and I couldn’t help but think she’d never looked more beautiful. “If you don’t, you sure have a funny way of showing it.”

Her eyes sparkled with conspiratorial mischief. “Thank you,” she said, gesturing toward the article. “This was very sweet of you.”

“It was lazy,” I said. “I wrote it because I’d already done the research.”

“Is that what you’ve been up to all this time?” she asked in a teasing tone. “All those chocolate croissants were research.”

“What can I say? I like to be thorough.”

She laughed and her head fell back, revealing the smooth column of her tempting neck. “I probably would’ve realized you were only doing research if I wasn’t always so busy undressing you with my eyes when you come in.”

My mind flashed back to how she looked in pigtails the first time we met. “That’s only a shame because you’re perfectly capable of doing the job with your hands.”

“Will you go to the wedding with me?” she asked, her expression full of hope.

“Of course. I want to be your date for every wedding you go to for the rest of your life.”

She stared unblinkingly at me, letting my words sink in.

Including yours. “And I want to share every meal and morning with you, too.”

“Well, that settles that.”

My brows lifted.

“Might as well break down that wallbetween our apartments.”

“Really?” I asked.

“No,” she said. “I still owe my parents a hundred grand.”

I hadn’t realized she didn’t own her place.

“They figured if they had to cosign for me anyway, they might as well own the asset till I paid it off.”

“When will that be?”

She shrugged. “A few years?”

“Guess we’ll have to go away for the weekend before that,” I said, eager for an excuse to whisk her away in my convertible, which she only pretended to think was crass. “Not sure I can wait that long to get my hands on you in a nice jacuzzi.” If our forays into shower sex were any indication, having her in a jacuzzi would be revelation.

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