Page 155 of Possess Me! (I Want You To)

“Strip,” he commanded.

“Huh?” Maybe I was sex-stupid already, because I had no idea how the paint buckets at all correlated to me getting naked. Were we still doing sex? What was happening?

“Now.” Prudence’s eyes were flooded with heat as he turned back to me, the plain hunger I saw reflected in his gaze enough to make my head spin. Always a predator. Always ravenous. I licked my lips, and immediately began fumbling with the buttons on my shirt. When it took too long he grew impatient with my progress and dove for the buttons himself. Instead of sparing my best—and only dress shirt—he tore it open.

Buttons flew across the room and I gasped out a laugh.

Goddammit.

“Hey—wait.” Prudence pulled the shirt down my back, trapping my arms for a moment before he peeled them meticulously free and moved toward the button on my pants. “Wait—”

“What?”

“The windows—”

“It’s one way glass,” he huffed with an eye roll as if I was the one being unreasonable. I snorted out a laugh, though the sound died quickly as he shoved my pants and boxers down my legs and my hard cock slapped against my belly leaving a hot streak of precum behind.

Shit.

Prudence got on his knees to help me out of my pants. He tossed my shoes and clothing toward a corner of the room, his eyes dark with desire as he stared up at me from his spot on the floor, thighs spread. It would never get old seeing him on his knees for me. My balls, which had until now been mercifully patient, officially began to ache. His gaze was searching, the swath of his bangs like ink where they spilled across his forehead.

“The paint?” I asked, because I was stupid.

“Shut up.”

“Jeez.” I rolled my eyes at him, but did as I was told, amused. Prudence’s brow quirked in frustration as he fumbled with his back pocket. I watched him dumbly, still completely confused. Still naked. What the hell was happening right now?

He fought with his own pants, growling in frustration, before he finally seemed to get what he wanted.

“That better be a condom or I’m going to have to stage a riot,” I joked, only for my joke to fall completely flat as I realized what he was holding. “Oh.”

It was definitely not a condom.

“Luca.”

“Hi.” The word blurted out before I could stop it. I floundered for a moment, floored by the glitter of the ring tucked tight between his thick, tattooed fingers. His familiar chipped nail polish caught the light as my eyes bulged and I tried to find my words again. No. Nope. I had none. I couldn’t form a single coherent thought right now if my life depended on it.

“Luca,” Prudence started again, brow lowering seriously as he pinched the ring tighter and my heart beat unsteadily in my chest. “Marry me.” It was more a demand than a question, in typical Prudence style.

“Really?” Oh man. Oh man, oh man.

“Really.” I dropped to my knees, my laugh wet as I cupped his hand between both of mine and I caught his gaze.

“Shit, you are one competitive motherfucker.”

“My proposal was better than Hunters.”

“I mean—he didn’t give me a house, so I think that’s fair.” I laughed again, leaning forward to lace a kiss against his cheek. His cool skin left my lips tingling as I pulled away, blinking through my tears. “I haven’t said yes yet.”

He stared at me, expression scarily blank, so I didn’t torture him any longer.

“Yes,” I snorted, kissing him again. And again. And again. And again. Somehow, at some point, between the kisses he positioned the ring onto my finger. It fit perfectly, and I huffed out another awed little laugh as he pushed me to the cool wooden floor and my breath left me in an overwhelmed rush. “Yes. A million times yes,” I repeated, just because I could.

Prudence’s clothes disappeared sometime between the twentieth and sixtieth kiss. Distracted, and buzzy all over, it took me an embarrassing amount of time to realize what he was doing with his free hand while he’d been fucking me with his tongue.

One of the paint cans was open beside him, the lid plopped on the ground, a splatter of pale green paint marring the pristine white floor.

“Oh my god,” I whispered, forcing his lips away as I stared at the cans of paint with new understanding. “Is this part of the proposal?”

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