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“The thought of not being with you is…” I wince. “Well, it’s so awful I can’t even describe how bad it would be.”
“Put your hand in my pocket,” he says.
“What?” I reach into his jacket pocket and pull out a used tissue and an energy bar wrapper. “You want these?”
“My pants pocket,” he clarifies.
“Front or back?”
He leans in until his lips almost touch mine. “Front.”
“Seriously?” I ask, my eyebrows raised. “Isn’t it too cold for outdoor activities?”
“Seriously,” he says.
I slide my hands from around his neck, down his chest, and one into each pocket to be sure I don’t miss my target. Sure enough, my left hand finds the long, hard prize I love so much.
“There you are,” I say as his erection twitches against my fingers.
His eyes half close. “As much as I hate to stop you, I meant the other pocket.”
I reach in deeper on the other side and find a hard cube.
“Pull it out,” he says.
I plant a kiss on his chin and stroke his dick again. “Which one?”
He gasps. “It pains me to say it, but the other one.”
I withdraw both hands from his pockets and find myself holding a small black box, like the sort that would hold a pair of delicate earrings.
Elliot isn’t much of a gift guy—he’s more of a gesture guy. Although, he did bring me flowers once to apologize for cancelling a date because the West Coast office rescheduled a meeting to evening our time.
“Before you open it”—he wraps his hands around mine, clasping the box in my palm—“I want you to know you are the best person I have ever known. You challenge my mind, and make me laugh, and turn me on like all holy hell. Every part of you fits every part of me. And I never want to lose how this feels.”
My heart races. Might this not be a pair of earrings? Could it be what I now think it might be?
I meet his eyes. “Every part of you fits every part of me too.”
“Open it,” he says.
I pop up the lid and feel my mouth drop open. “Oh my God, Elliot.”
It’s a ring more stunning than anything I could have ever imagined. A large oval diamond with two small pink diamonds on either side.
Elliot cups my cheeks and tips my face up to look at him. “Charlotte. I love you. Will you marry me?”
Less than a year ago, the thought of those words falling from Elliot Dashwood’s lips were unimaginable. My life has changed beyond measure these last few months and, yes, some of that is down to me. But all the parts I can’t control, that I can’t plan, are down to his presence in my world.
I hadn’t anticipated this. Not today. Maybe not any day.
Perhaps it’s the shock, or a joy so overwhelming I’ve never felt the like of it before, but tears prick behind my eyelids.
“Yes,” I manage to squeak out. “I’d love to marry you.”
He takes the box from me and slides the ring onto my finger. “The pink diamonds are because of the towels in your bathroom. Every time I remember sitting on the floor outside the door while you puked inside, I think of your delirious voice saying, ‘My towels are pink,’ and it makes me laugh. Every single time.”
I poke him right between the pecs. “You got me an engagement ring that reminds you of me puking?” I can’t take my eyes off the way it sparkles and glints in the sunlight through the trees. “And will now remind me of me puking. For the rest of my life.”
