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“Yeah, but he’ll be late.”

“Some things will never change.”

I hum. “No they don’t. We have twenty minutes…”

He twists in my arms. “And what do you think that means?”

“Well…I wasn’t going to mention it, but I have this little problem.”

He grins up at me. “Little? It feels a little large,” he says, pressing his hips into mine.

I groan at the feel of him through our shorts.

“I can’t help it. There’s this guy that I can’t get enough of, and he happens to be standing right in front of me.”

He looks around. “I’m the only one here.”

“Mmmmhhmmm,” I say, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Nineteen minutes.”

The bedroom still smells like the lemon stuff he used on the windows this morning. Lake light is coming in sideways. I meant to wait until later. The whole reason for the dinner tonight. My mom, pretending she doesn’t already know, Bryson running late enough that it would give me the courage to do it. The box has been in my sock drawer since last week, because Quinn doesn’t go in my dresser unless he’s stealing a hoodie.

“Daniel.” He’s smiling, suspicious. “We don’t have time for whatever face you’re making.”

“Yeah, we do.” I kiss him once, then step back, because I’ve made the decision and now I can’t stop myself. I pull on the drawer and it sticks a little, but I manage to palm the box and turn back toward him. I drop to one knee in front of him before I can rehearse it in my head. “Okay. So. I was going to do this later. After dinner. But you’re standing there in my hoodie and I can’t wait any longer. I don’t want to wait until later when right now is perfect.”

His smile freezes, his eyes dipping to the box in my hands, and my heart races.

“I love you,” I say. “I’ve loved you since you tried to murder me with a kiss. You’re it. You’re the whole perfect package. Marry me. Please. I’ll even let you control the thermostat.”

He stares at the ring, then at me. For a second, I think I’ve blown the timing so badly he’s going to say no. Then he laughs, wet and short, and nods so hard his glasses slip down his nose.

“Yes,” he says. “Obviously yes. Get up.”

I get up. He hits my chest hard enough that I rock back on my heels, arms around my neck, face in my neck. I hold on. My throat’s a mess. I get the ring out of the box one-handed and slide it on. And it fits, because I measured his finger while he was asleep and felt terrible about it for like a week. He looks at it. Then looks back at me and kisses me.

He pulls back, glances at the clock, and says, “Ten minutes.”

“Quinn.”

“That’s long enough for a quickie.” His voice is steady. He pushes my shorts down, then his, and wraps a hand around both of us. I swell even more under his touch. “You just asked me to marry you. I’m not waiting until your parents leave to feel you inside me. We can be fast. But I want to keep my glasses on so I can watch your face when you come.”

I groan into his mouth. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“That’s not part of the plan,” he says, and tightens his hand. “Don’t waste the ten minutes talking. Right now, I want my fiancé.”

His hand is already moving, a little dry, then better when he spits into his palm and strokes us together, slow enough to make my knees feel weak. I shove his shorts down further and they pool at his feet, mine follow, and then I get his hoodie up and off.

He steps back. “Inside,” he says. “Now.”

“Lube.” I’m already walking him backward toward the bed.

He reaches for it and uncaps it. He squeezes some onto my fingers. It’s cold, and he hisses when I reach down and circle his hole. I get two inside him while he strokes us, and he bears down, one hand fisted in my shirt, his breath coming out in pants as I rub his prostate.

“Enough,” he says, being bossy. “Daniel. Come on.”

I don’t argue, I push him back onto the bed, and he spreads his legs making room for me. I push in. Tight. Hot. Familiar enough that my vision blanks out for a second. He makes a broken sound and pushes my shirt up and over my head, his palm burning a hole in my chest. The ring catches the light and flashes between us. And I go deeper.

“There,” he says. “Don’t be careful. I want to feel you still inside me when we’re eating.”