Page 23 of Wrapped Up in Holly

“I don’t…”

He sucked on my clit, and I reflexively canted my hips off the bed.

“Oh, god, I’m already so close.”

He curved his fingers inside me, stroking me over and over. Usually he waited to do that, let me get used to the feel of him, but he wasn’t waiting tonight. He was forcing me over the edge.

“I’m coming. I’m coming.”

Roiling pleasure coiled in my lower belly while my feet flexed, my neck arched.

It went on and on. He didn’t let me come down. He only kept sucking and petting, stoking the fire, prolonging the wave of orgasm.

I bucked wildly under him. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” I wrung my arm around his neck, yanking him up toward me. “Please, please. I need you in me.”

He kissed me, his mouth swollen and wet, but he didn’t reach for his pants. Merely dragged his tongue over my chin and throat.

“No, no. I need…”

“I need you to let me do this.” His voice was harsh, and I didn’t understand why. He shook his head as he settled back between my legs. “I love you. Forever.” He traced his fingertip along my already sensitive skin, absently playing with me. “And I will support you no matter what you want to do. We made it this far.” He dipped his finger into me, gentle this time. “But I went months without touching you, tasting you. Don’t make me rush. I want to take my time and make you come as many times as I can before I need to leave, because I don’t know when I’ll get it again.”

My rib cage cracked open. My heart broke in two. This man. He was perfect.

“Evan.” I tugged on his hair when he bent to lick into me. “Please. I need to talk to you.”

“So talk.” He licked my clit, and I sucked in a breath.

“Evan!”

“Not exactly how I imagined you saying my name, but we’ll try again.” Then he pushed another finger inside me and flicked his wrist. When I panted his name, I felt him smile against me. “That’s better.”

Though he moved slower, lazily running his tongue along the length of me, occasionally flicking at my clit, this second orgasm was stronger. The pressure built at the bottom of my spine, my skin pulled taut in anticipation, and suddenly I was engulfed in flames.

My lips were dry from my heaving breaths, my arms limp at my sides, and finally he levered himself over me, staring down at me with those fiercely pretty yet protective eyes. Like I was his everything.

And I couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Marry me.”

“What?”

I wiggled life back into my fingers and arms then molded my hands around to his jaw. “Will you marry me?”

He pursed his lips. “That’s supposed to be my line.”

I gave into an exhausted laugh. “Were you planning on saying it?”

He pushed off the bed, reaching for his backpack in the corner. He dug through one of the pockets and pulled out a small box then sat next to me on the bed. “I bought this the day after you told me about Micki.”

Micki, my agent. The one who’d pick me out of the runway show in school. The one who told me I could actually be something in this business if I wanted to. Back then, I’d had stars in my eyes. I’d thought someone was finally seeing me.

It’d been three years and lots of people had seen me.

Yet in the end, the only one who I ever cared about seeing me was the one person who I’d been constantly pulled from.

Now, here he was, holding out a small box for me to open.

“I would’ve asked you then, but I didn’t want you to think I was doing it because I didn’t want you to model. So I waited. Been carrying it around with me, waiting for the right time. But…” He shrugged. “There never seemed to be a right time, and I never want you to think I’m holding you back.”

“You’re not holding me back.” I slipped into his lap. He was still fully clothed, while I was completely naked and flushed from the heat of what he’d done to me. I kissed his stubborn jaw, always prickly with a day’s worth of a beard. The corner of his mouth that so often tipped up in amusement, but almost never full-out grinned. Then the center of his plush lips, sometimes quiet but always kind and constantly reassuring me. “You’re lifting me up.”

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