Page 108 of Bidding War

I laughed and nodded. “Maybe a little.”

“That makes me very happy. I like not having to cook all the time.”

“That is a pity. I love your food.”

“Speaking of that, your mother is a hell of a cook.”

“She should be. She took lessons in France.”

Her lips quirked quizzically. “Then why were you so surprised that she made us dinner?”

“Even though she knows how to, she doesn't do it frequently.”

“She doesn't strike me as the kind of woman who usually does her own dirty work.”

I laughed at the thought. “Not when she can help it.”

“Why are you so smiley right now?”

“I am?”

“You haven't stopped smiling since we got home.”

That explains why my face is tired. “I like that you call this apartment our home.” It cements exactly what is on my mind.

She smiles bashfully. “I mean, I know this isn't my address technically. But it's kind of hard not to think of it that way sometimes. I hope I'm not overstepping.”

“No. Like I said, I like that you think of this place as our home.” I draw her into my arms and slant my mouth over hers for a long, sleepy, winey kiss. “I want to build a life with you, June.”

“Maybe I'm assuming, but I sort of thought that's what we were doing in the first place. Isn't that why you brought me to your parents’ house? We're together. Couples do that kind of thing.”

“I am done talking about my fucking parents for the night.”

“But we haven't even dished on them. The way your father?—"

I kiss her again. “No more talk of him. No more talk of her. Not tonight. Tonight is for better things.”

“Like what?”

“I am recovered enough. The doctor cleared me. I love you. I want you naked on my bed right now.”

“The doctor cleared you? You're serious?”

I nod. “And it has been far too long since the last time I was inside of you. I want to make love to you until I can’t, and I want to propose to you, but?—"

She gasps to speak, but I press a finger over her lips.

“But fucking first.”

She laughs. “Gee, how romantic?—"

I kiss her again, and this time, I’m not stopping until she is in my bed. I back her up from the kitchen toward the bedroom as carefully as I can without one of us slipping. It’s not my usual move, and between her high heels and my gunshot wound, we both have to be careful. But we make it just inside my bedroom door frame before she stumbles. Her heel snags on the rug. But I catch her just in time.

She gasps. “Nice save.”

“Maybe stand up so I don’t hurt myself?”

“Right, oh god.” She stands up. “Are you okay?”

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