Page 66 of Suzanna's Surrender
“I’m not good at this, Suzanna. I thought I could pull it off. Set the mood, you know? And after you’d had enough champagne, I’d convince you I could make you happy.”
She couldn’t relax her grip. She tried but couldn’t. “I don’t need champagne and candlelight, Holt.”
He smiled a little. “Babe, you were born for it. I could lie to you and tell you I’ll remember to give it to you every night. But I won’t.”
She looked down at her glass and wondered if she was ready to take this sort of chance again. Loving him was one thing. Being loved by him was incredible. But marriage... “Why don’t you just tell me the truth, then?”
He walked over to sit on the arm of the couch and face her. “I love you. I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. Whatever happens, I’ll never feel like this about anyone else again. There’s no taking back what’s happened to either of us in the last few years, but maybe we can make things better for both of us. For the kids.”
Her eyes changed, darkened. “It may never be easy. Bax would always be their legal father.”
“He wouldn’t be the one who loved them.” When her eyes filled, he shook his head. No, she hadn’t needed candlelight and champagne to make her vulnerable and open to his needs. Only a mention of her children. “I won’t use them to get to you. I know I could, but first it has to be between you and me. Maybe I’m stuck on them, and I want to—I think I could be pretty good at being their father, but I don’t want you to marry me for them.”
She took a deep breath. Odd, her fingers had relaxed on the stem of the glass without her being aware. “I never wanted to love anyone again. And I certainly never wanted to get married.” Her lips curved. “Until you.” Setting the glass aside, she reached for his hand. “I can’t claim to have loved you as long, but you couldn’t love me more than I love you.”
He didn’t settle for her hand, but pulled her into his arms. When he at last managed to tear his mouth from hers, he buried his face in her hair. “Don’t tell me you need to think about it, Suzanna.”
“I don’t need to think about it.” She couldn’t remember the last time her heart and mind had been so at peace. “I’ll marry you.”
Before the words were out of her mouth, she was tumbling with him onto the couch. She was laughing as they tugged at each other’s clothes, laughing still when the frantic movements sent them rolling onto the floor.
“I knew it.” She nipped his bare shoulder. “You did bring me here to make love.”
“Can I help it if you can’t keep your hands off me?” He trailed a necklace of quick kisses around her throat.
She smiled, tilting her head to give him easy access. “Holt, did you really think about pulling me down on the street after you’d fallen off your bike?”
“After you’d run into me,” he corrected, nuzzling her ear. “Yeah. Let me show you what I had in mind.”
Later they lay like rag dolls on the floor, a tangle of limbs. When she could manage it, she lifted her head from his chest. “It was much better that we didn’t try that twelve years ago.”
Lazily he opened his eyes. She was smiling down at him, her hair brushing his shoulders, the candlelight glowing in her eyes. “Much better. I wouldn’t have had any skin left on my back.”
She chuckled then shifted to trace the shape of his face. “You always scared me a little. Looking so dark and dangerous. And, of course, the girls used to talk about you.”
“Oh, yeah? What did they say?”
“I’ll tell you when you’re sixty. You could probably use it then.” He pinched her, but she only laughed then rested her cheek on his. “When you’re sixty, we’ll be an old married couple with grandchildren.”
He liked the thought of it. “And you still won’t be able to keep your hands off me.”
“And I’ll remind you of the night you asked me to marry you, when you gave me flowers and candlelight, then shouted at me and raged up and down the room, making me love you even more.”
“If that’s all it takes, you’ll be delirious about me by the time I’m sixty.”
“I already am.” She lowered her mouth to his.
“Suzanna.” He drew her closer, started to roll her under him, then swore. “It’s your own fault,” he said as he nudged her aside.
“What?”
“You were supposed to be sitting over there, dazed by my romantic abilities.” He fought to untangle his jeans and pull the jeweler’s box from the pocket. “Then I was going to get down on one knee.”
Eyes wide, she stared at the box, then at him. “You were not.”
“Yes, I was. I was going to feel like an idiot, but I was going to do it. You’ve got no one to blame but yourself that we’re lying naked on the floor. Here.”
“You bought me a ring,” she whispered.
