Page 37 of A Love That Broke Us
“Yep. You look hot.” Our lips meet again, then again, and before I know it, my hands are raking through her hair, kissing her like she’s the air I need to breathe. That thought borders on insanity, but it’s true. In a way, I do need her to breathe. I’d do anything for her. Sometimes I think God put me on this earth simply to worship Alley. To make her laugh. To please her.
Damn, that’s good. I’ll have to remember that.
I didn’t prepare a speech either. She’ll appreciate a raw, vulnerable moment. Nothing is sexier to her than honesty. So I’m going into this blind. I only need to know one thing today: I love Alley, and I can’t imagine a single day without her—because that would be my personal hell.
I grin against her lips. “Damn you, babe. We don’t have time to have sex right now, but I really want to.”
She laughs against my mouth. “Who says we don’t have time? We can miss the kicking thing.”
I chuckle. She still has a lot to learn about football.
Gripping her hips, I deepen the kiss, knowing damn well we’ll barely make it out of this house on time—if at all.
But fuck the game.
Alley’s the only win I care about today.
My phone dings,startling me awake.
Then it dings again.
And again.
“Hell,” I mutter, reaching blindly for it. I squint at the screen, groaning when I see the time—ten minutes before my alarm was set to go off.
Another ding.
It’s my sibling group chat, lighting up at six-fucking-thirty in the morning.What a bunch of overachievers.
Well, sibling chat—plus the in-laws. And Matt.
Matt
Bro, did she say yes?
Jeff
You were supposed to text us last night. How did it go?
Matt
The suspense is killing me…
Megan
What the hell is wrong with you, Matt? It’s six in the morning. I’ll have your balls for this.
I couldn’t stop grinning if you paid me. I probably look like the damn Cheshire Cat right now. Silencing my phone, I glance at Alley—still fast asleep. My heart lurches, my grin widening when I take her in. Hair a mess, mouth open, heavy, even breaths. She’s always been a deep sleeper. She can pass out anywhere. I have dozens of pictures of her sleeping in random places—mouth open, catching flies. She hates them. I tell her it’s the ultimate blackmail.
She said yes.
She wants to be mine. And I’m going to be hers.
Damn. When did I become this guy? The one lying in bed, grinning like a lovesick puppy over a group text and having afiancée?Never thought I’d be the type.
My fingers hover over the screen. I punch out a reply, feeling giddy—like a goddamn schoolboy.
She said YES!
