Page 105 of Mayflower

“Oh,” she says with a little smile. “You didn’t tell me it’s a special date.”

“Every one is.”

“Archer Crone.” She tilts her head, taunting me. “Aren’t you romantic lately?”

She’s glowing when the waiter comes over and pours us wine. She is not spoiled, and despite all these jokes about dates and candles, she secretly loves it when we do something special. She was the one who surprised me two weeks ago with candles, a dinner she cooked for me, and a tantric sex tutorial gone wild.

I can’t wait to say all I want to say to her tonight. Then eat with her, discuss the future, dance to her favorite songs, then fuck her any way I choose.

“We’ve been through a lot, Kat,” I say, starting from afar.

“You don’t say.” She chuckles and takes a slow sip of her wine.

“We clashed. We played games. We cried. Well, you did.”

She gives me a mean glare, making me smile.

“We were kidnapped. We fought. We had the best sex of my life. You failed at the upside-down pose.”

An amused snort escapes her, her lips stretching into a smile. “You are yet to agree to pegging.”

“I’ll fuck your pretty mouth right now if you interrupt me again,” I warn with a grin.

She cocks a brow and elegantly leans on her elbows on the table. “Don’t make me handcuff you and edge you until you whimper like you did last week.”

I grin, trying to conceal a blush. “I warned you.”

“Should’ve teased you longer.”

I study her, the woman who definitely ups everything she comes across in her life. Overachiever. Smart. Brave. Wild. Sexy. Nuts. Kat. Kitten. Wild thing. My horny thing. My queen. I can go on and on, but I’ve told her all that. And right now, I’m coming to terms with all that before I let her know that I’m a hundred percent in.

She’s throwing me suspicious glances, her dark eyes glistening with the candlelight reflected in them. “What’s up, Arch? Better tell me. If it’s something bad, something you’ve done that you need to butter me up for and ask for forgiveness, better stop beating around the bush.”

With a feigned mean stare, she leans back in her chair.

“Ka-tu-ra Or-tiz,” I slowly pronounce every syllable.

She cocks her head, all haughty and playful. “I like it when you say my full name. Go on?”

“Oh, yeah? You know what would be better? If it were shorter.”

“Ha! Whatever.”

I keep quiet as I give her a meaningful stare.

She frowns, still oblivious to what I mean. “What?” She blinks in confusion.

“Katura Crone. Sounds edgy. Suits you.”

Her lips part as she is about to say something, but she doesn’t. A smile flickers on her lips but falls off as if scared away. She chuckles to herself, takes a sip of wine, bites her lips, glances at me, and smiles again.

I cherish this moment, but even more so, I cherish the idea that she will be mine, completely mine, very soon.

I get the small black box out of my pocket, get up, and get down on one knee in front of her.

The sight of her flustered, eyes widening, is everything. Kat doesn’t get surprised too often.

“Kat, I can sing serenades, write dissertations, and talk for hours about how much you mean to me,” I say, looking up at her as she nervously licks her lips, staring at me wide-eyed. “But the thing is, you mean everything. And everything is nothing unless I’m with you. I’m in, a hundred percent, all the way. Doing life. Being us and being together. Going through whatever else this crazy world throws at us. Because when it comes to the best and worst moments, there’s no one else I’d rather do them with than you.” I smile, seeing her eyes glisten with tears. “Katura Ortiz, will you be my wife?”

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