Page 39 of Secret Bump

It takes everything I have to not drag her to her feet and demand she marry me that very instant.

I have the same feeling a dozen times a day. At work, at the bookstore on the way home from work. In my house that is rapidly becoming her house, as she cooks and reorganizes and puts her touches on everything.

And then it does slip out, in the middle of the night.

We go to bed early, because fatigue has caught up to her, and then she wakes me up in the dark, pushing her ass back against my cock.

“I love you,” I mumble while still half-asleep.

“I love you, too,” she whispers back.

And then we both go very still, because that’s the first time she’s said it.

“I—” She sounds uncertain now.

Fuck.

“It’s okay,” I say.

“I know.” She turns and kisses my jaw. “I love you, Mack.”

I crush her to me, heart galloping now. “Isabelle…”

She laughs as I scramble off the bed and kneel beside it.

“Will you marry me?”

She’s silent.

“Isabelle, you’re having my child. I want you to be my wife. No, Ineedyou to be my wife. I need the world to know we’re a family.”

When she still doesn’t say anything, I return to the bed, sitting up with my back to the headboard. She immediately crawls onto my lap, and I wrap my arms around her. “Too soon?”

“I…” She exhales in a frustrated huff. “Mack, I don’t know!”

“That’s better than a straight-upno,” I say, relieved. “Hey, look at me.”

“It’s too dark,” she mutters.

I laugh and flick on the bedside lap.

Her lovely little face is a study in conflict. “My beautiful girl, who cannot tell a lie,” I murmur, stroking her cheek. “I can’t be upset that you also can’t make a forever promise before you’re one hundred percent sure. That’s part of what I love about you.”

She trembles in my arms. “I think I just need to know you want me for more than my breeding potential.”

My cock twitches against her ass, very inconveniently.

“Mack!” She slaps my chest.

“God damn it, Isabelle, you can’t say breeding and not expect me to react. Of course, I want you for so much more than that. But it’s been seven days since I’ve been inside you, and I’m dying here. Let me make you mine, and I’ll show you just how forever I want it to be.”

“You were watching me formonths. While I was suffering under the misunderstanding that you didn’t care about me,” she says softly. “Which I know now isn’t true. But what if I need months to catch up to you?”

Months.

Jesus Christ, how could I have forgotten?

“That’s right.” I dump her off my lap somewhat unceremoniously. “It’s been months! Go to that painting over there. Wait, wrap yourself in the sheet. You might not want to be naked for this.”

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