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I can’t…
I CAN’T…
When we started having sex, those thoughts were interfering with my ability to lose myself in the lovemaking.
I finally just had to push them out of my mind and focus on the feeling of his gorgeous cock inside me, the sensations in my body –
It worked.
For a while, pleasure was able to blot out the thoughts.
But as we lay in the darkness afterwards, and I heard his soft breathing as he slept…
All the fear came back.
And this time, there was nowhere to hide.
78
Lars
Idecided to ask Rachel to marry me.
I’d been thinking about it for months, back when I was still in Special Forces.
I loved imagining our future together. I pictured us in a house in the suburbs outside London, a two-story cottage on a tree-lined street… a four-year-old girl with Rachel’s dark hair playing out back while Rachel and I watched from the big bay window in the kitchen, me standing behind her, nuzzling her neck, my arms around her waist…
It was a daydream I slipped into often.
But before Alistair approached me, it was all just hypothetical.
Now it was a possibility… and it became even more of a possibility when I checked my bank account the day after I got back from Norway.
I saw that I’d received another deposit from UNKNOWN – this time for two weeks’ salary: 4615 pounds.
With what I had left from the relocation funds, plus my final paycheck from Special Forces, that made 9000 pounds – or around $11,500 US.
When I saw I had the money, I made my decision:
It was time to get the ring.
I figured I could buy a decent one for less than 9000 pounds. Or I hoped I could, anyway.
A sneaky little voice whispered in my ear, If you include the money you didn’t spend in Norway, you could afford almost 14,000 pounds.
I ignored the voice and decided to stick with 9000.
After Rachel left for work, I looked on my phone and found a place near my hotel. I walked over and found a charming shop with long glass counters filled with trays of velvet cloth and glittering rings.
I had to be buzzed in through two doors. Once inside, it was just me and the salesman, who was dressed in an expensive suit.
“Good day, sir,” he said with a posh British accent. “How might I help you?”
I told him I wanted an engagement ring, but I knew nothing about diamonds.
“That’s perfectly alright, sir. That’s what I’m here for.”
He rattled off a bunch of information about cut, clarity, color, and carats while I inspected trays he set out on the counter.
