Page 187 of The Christmas Wife

"Don't you dare," I huff.

"You challenging me?"

"Maybe," I mumble as a frisson of heat runs up my spine.

He glances around, then rolls off of the bed. I lower my arms. He turns to me, points his finger, and says, "Stay."

"Bossy," I grumble.

"You ain't seen nothin’ yet."

He stalks over to the walk in closet. I hear him rummaging around, then silence. A few seconds later he walks out.

I gasp. "Oh my."

"Like it?" He stands there in his scrubs. The green material molds to his torso, outlines the cut abs of his chest, tents at his crotch—ha! so what's new?—and clings to his powerful thighs.

"You look?—"

"Hot?"

"I was going to say yummy."

"Is everything a food reference to you?" He laughs.

"Is everything about getting the last word with you?"

He tilts his head, "Except with you."

"Oh?"

"You know it's true, babe. After all, I let you get away with chocolate."

"Someone had to change your mind about the devil's food." I chuckle.

"So you decided to feed it to the devil himself?"

"Are you the devil?"

"Where you are concerned, I am your lover and your protector, your lord and master, your to-be husband."

I curl the fingers of my left hand around the ring, "I haven't said yes to marrying you yet."

"Oh, you are about to." He raises his hand, and I spot the black ties he holds in his grasp.

"What...what's that for?"

He grins at me and his eyes glint. He stalks around the bed, then places his knee on the bed, throws his leg over my waist and straddles me.

"Wes." I draw in a breath.

"Trust me, Cookie." He leans over and ties my wrists to the headboard. Then rolls off of the bed and walks away again. What the hell?

He returns holding an egg timer in his hand.

"How many of those things do you have?"

"Enough." He grins. "Since you seem to have a penchant for the blasted thing, I figured I'd buy enough to see us through the rest of our lives together."

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