Page 103 of Charlie

"Ready for what? Torture or sex?" I ask, raking my hands through his hair.

"Yes to both," he chuckles against my lips.

"I'm ready," I whisper.

56

Lach insists on giving me a tour once we're back on the boat. It quickly becomes evident the yacht was designed for the people Lach is passionate about helping. There are two kitchens, both equipped to make specialized meals for patients, complete with secure cold storage for medications. We pass several rooms dedicated to a clinic and a helipad in case of emergencies.

We stop in front of a glossy wood-paneled door toward the back of the boat. "This is my bedroom – our bedroom," Lach says. "Please note that this is the room farthest away from the control room and kitchens." He gives me an exaggerated wink.

"Noted," I laugh, remembering how he told me he would fuck me where no one could hear me scream.

Oh God. Is this finally happening? Butterflies go haywire in my stomach as he pushes open the door.

"Welcome home, Carebear." He swings me into his arms and carries me over the threshold. The room is dark and earthy – all greens and wood tones – and it even smells like him. A large bank of windows, mostly covered by velvet curtains, leads out to a balcony that runs the entire length of the room.

"Home?" I echo, running my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

He carries me to the windows, setting me down so we're both looking out over the ocean. "I want you to consider this your home, too. Nobody will use this room but us, so you can bring some clothes and toiletries to leave here next time."

"Are you asking me to move in with you?" I tease, looking over my shoulder at him and batting my eyelashes.

He slides his hands around my waist, pulling me against him. "Move in with me, marry me, have babies with me. I want everything you'll give me, Charlie."

I turn in his arms, emotion crawling up my throat. "Really?"

He cups my face with his hands, his grip matching the urgency of his words. "Yes, Charlie. I love you more than I ever thought I could love someone. My dreams are filled with the four of us teaching our kids to swim at the beach. Little Charlies running around with wild hair and freckles."

My smile trembles as I run my fingers over the golden stubble on his jaw, letting myself believe in his dream for just a second. "I can see you now – in front of a computer with a kid on each knee, teaching them how to navigate the stock market."

He snorts. "Not quite the romantic picture I had envisioned, but yes, that too. Everything we want is right at our fingertips, we just have to reach out and grab it." He tilts my face up, his gaze holding mine. "Say yes, Charlie."

My heart squeezes painfully. "Lach?—"

"Wait – I'll be right back!" he interrupts, running from the room. I turn back to the windows, gazing out over the horizon as I mull over his words. He wants kids with me.

With us.

Can I really do this? Be with all three of them for the rest of my life? I’m so far gone I can’t imagine life any other way.

Lach grunts as he slams into the doorframe on his way back into the room, then collapses on the bed, gasping for air and clutching his arm.

"Not the entrance I wanted to make," he wheezes, rubbing his shoulder as he tries to catch his breath. I climb up next to him and pull the comforter over me, sighing in contentment. I’m pretty sure I could have the best nap ever in this bed: the rocking of the boat, the minimal light, a plethora of cozy blankets.

"Naptime?" Lach asks, the corner of his mouth pulling up as he watches my attempt to cover a gigantic yawn.

"Absolutely not. Not until I have that orgasm you promised me. Then I'll have the best sleep of my life."

"I'll get right on that," he laughs, "but first, there’s a question I need to ask you. Do you want to stay rolled up like a burrito or should we go out on the balcony?"

My heart jumps to my throat as I scramble off the bed and follow him outside on shaky legs.

He turns to me, running his fingers through his hair nervously. "I was going to wait," he says, "but after our talk today, I’m having a hard time thinking about anything else." He caresses the swell of my cheek, then tilts my chin and covers my lips with his. His tongue sweeps over mine tentatively before he pulls back to study my face.

"Lach, you’re making me nervous. Why are you staring at me like that?" I ask, my nerves bubbling over.

"Because I want this moment etched into my memory," he responds, sinking down onto one knee.

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