Page 142 of Wicked Sexy (Wicked Games 2)
His eyes get wide. I can’t tell if the look he’s giving me is anger or astonishment.
“You hope not?”
Feeling a little defensive, I say, “Well, we haven’t exactly talked about the future—”
“I’m in love with you,” he says abruptly. “You are my future.”
That takes my breath away. We’ve never said ‘I love you’ to each other. Even after the day in the hospital, it’s always just been ‘I loathe you.’ Our little inside joke.
I whisper, “So…then…you’re just one of those guys who doesn’t need the piece of paper?”
Connor looks at me like I’m speaking a foreign language that he doesn’t understand. “What. The. Hell. Are you talking about?”
All of a sudden, my face is flaming. I’m embarrassed and uncomfortable and wish we weren’t having this conversation. But we are, so I might as well get it over with. I blow out a breath, square my shoulders, and look him in the eye.
“I’m talking about marriage.”
Connor’s face transforms. He straightens, takes my face in his hands, and breathes, “Yes.”
I blink. “That wasn’t a question.”
“Yes it was. You just asked me to marry you.”
Is he fucking with me? “Uh…”
“And I said yes.” He flutters his lashes. “Where’s my ring?”
He is fucking with me! I punch him in the shoulder. “You dick!”
Without missing a beat, he says, “Because I already have yours.”
I freeze. I’m pretty sure my heart stops beating, but I can’t tell because I’ve lost all sensation in my body. “You…what?”
Connor gently kisses me. He nuzzles my jaw and then whispers in my ear, “I had this big romantic production planned out—candlelight dinner, horse-drawn carriage ride in Central Park, down on bended knee, the whole thing—but since you beat me to the punch, I’ll just give you the ring and we’ll call it even.”
A little squeaky noise comes out of me.
He chuckles and kisses me again, drawing my tongue into his mouth, gently biting my lower lip. My heartbeat is all over the place. I place my hands on his chest, and they’re shaking.
When he pulls away, he’s breathing hard. His eyes drift open, and in them all I see is love.
I say breathlessly, “So where is it?”
He brushes my hair off my face. “Where’s mine?”
He’s teasing, but I’m in no mood for delays, so I improvise. I tear a strip of bacon in half, take his left hand, and wrap the piece of bacon around his ring finger, tucking the ends under so it stays in place. It’s a big, crumbly, greasy mess. He stares at it, looks at me, and then looks back at his hand.
I ask, “What do you think?”
“I think I can’t wait to tell our kids that you proposed to me with a bacon ring.”
“I didn’t pro—kids?”
He glances up at me with a glint in his eye and a smile playing around the edges of his mouth. “Four.”
My mouth falls open. “Four? You want four kids?”
He pulls me in against his strong chest, leaving a smear of bacon grease on my arm, and wraps his arms around me. He rests his chin on the top of my head. “You’re right. We should have eight. Start our own little army.”
