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Licking my lips, I swallow hard. I pray to God it’s not. I don't think I could handle it. In fact, I know I couldn't. Just the mere thought makes my stomach knot with dread. I wouldn't survive it a second time. I barely did the first time.
My heart does this odd little flip and my eyes widen from the way it dips into my stomach. I hate the way it only happens when anxiety is consuming me the way it is right now. It's worst when my stomach and heart join forces to produce a nasty panic attack I have to talk myself down from.
But the way he's looking at me confirms my fear. Inhaling and exhaling quickly, I blink rapidly, trying to mentally ease the tightness in my chest. Maybe I'm overthinking and I'm wrong. James tugs me closer, and instinctively I try to pull away from him. The thought of James leaving me cripples me to the point that I'm breaking down inside. I'd marry him if I absolutely had to, but I really hope it won’t come to that. Then every day I would live in some state of fear that something was going to take him from me.
My knees are shaking. I'm weak and on the verge of fainting when James wraps an arm around my lower back and pulls me to stand against him. The warmth of his chest soothes my anxiety and I feel a settling in my soul that only he is able to give me. He nestles his cheek against mine and holds our hands pressed to his chest. The scruff of his beard is oddly comforting. He's holding me up knowing I can't handle another second longer. I feel like he's always holding me up, though. He's my rock. My silent warrior. He didn't ask me for anything, he didn't expect anything. Now that he was, I was rejecting him.
I sniffle, upset we're at odds over this and press myself into him. James holds me tighter and I love him more for it, but I can't help but fear he's going to leave me now too. The feeling is too gut-wrenching to ignore, no matter how hard I push the thought from me.
"Can you at least consider it, sweetheart?" James asks. "Marriage is something I really want with you. Nothing is going to happen to us. We're only going to get better. I promise you that. If you think for a second it's ruining what we have, we can get divorced and go back to dating. But please, all I'm asking is for you to think about marrying me."
"You don't know that, James," I say, my heart is in my throat. "You mean too much to me to risk it."
"I would do anything for you," he responds, his words like knives jutting between my ribs.
James's voice is one of the things that drew me to him. Deep and in the back of his throat, his spoken words can't be mistaken for anything other than validity. There's something about that I'm drawn to explicitly. He hits all the right notes in my body easily by simply talking. His vibe exudes old New York and that ups his smoking hot factor by a margin.
But when he's deep in his emotion and basically asking me to marry him, he’s fucking savage on the ears.
"You know that, right?"
I nod. "I know."
"Maybe I am old fashioned," he continues, "but I want to know that the rest of my days are sealed with yours. You're my world, my light. You give me a reason to wake up every day. Be mine forever in the way that matters most to me."
My heart is racing a mile a minute. I'm standing in nothing but a sleep shirt that just barely covers my ass. I'm completely naked underneath while James is only in a pair of basic shorts.
And I'm fairly certain James did just ask me to marry him… in a roundabout way.
I blink again, unsure what to say. I don’t want to ask him if he just asked me to marry him. I won’t set myself up like that, but I’m not sure what he meant by that either.
"If it doesn't work out, then we can say we gave it a shot. We can be that couple that never learns and keeps marrying each other."
Fuck. He did.
James turns so his back is to the wall now and pulls me to lean on him. Our legs are pressed together and there's a cool breeze drifting across the back of my thighs. Rising up on my tiptoes, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and bury my face in his neck. I draw James into me as a soft moan escapes my throat. My nipples harden in response and I shiver. God, I love the feeling this man creates inside my heart for him. If love had one specific feeling, this was it. This type of mood, this attraction and undeniable chemistry, is only meant for one person. Only for one person to evoke from another. My other half. James Riviera.
His embrace awakens a desire in me that spreads warmth throughout my body like a damn tidal
wave. My shirt lifts, exposing my bare flesh. His palm skims over my rounded ass. He gives me a firm squeeze at the base of my cheek and my eyes roll shut. Little flames pop over every inch of my skin and my head falls to the side. I can feel his hand itching to move higher. I want him to. James knows I love when his dominate side comes out to play.
His thick erection strains against my stomach. He's hot and long, and feeling his frame fit perfectly against my curves makes me want him even more. I've joked to him before that we fit like two puzzle pieces, but we really do.
His hands roam my thighs in a feather soft touch. Arching my chest into his, I slip my hair over my shoulder as his teeth find my tender flesh. Our bodies create this sultry friction that intensifies by the breaths we take. We're both fighting for something we believe in. Both wanting to give each other what they desire.
His lips brush over the shell of my ear and my pulse quickens. I catch the faintest scent of cognac that reminds me of a crackling fire. My skin flushes with need. He knows my body like the back of his hand.
There's something deeply intimate about being alone with James under the dark sky that amplifies the enormity of tonight’s conversation. In the dark, we're vulnerable. His hands tell me what to feel and his kiss silences my fears. Our desires are exposed without regret but sated with ecstasy.
A salty breeze glides past us and my hair feathers around us. I'm hoping we're done talking about the topic of marriage seeing as tomorrow we leave for home. I don't want to go to bed fighting with him. We don’t need to end the trip on a negative note.
I need James's lips on mine so I can show him we don't need a paper to claim what we are. We've been doing that. We know what we are. He is mine, and I am his. Always. End of story.
His prickly beard tickles me as he moves closer to where I need him. He peppers kisses along my jaw, causing me to produce little gasps. Just as I reach for his mouth and my body curls alongside his, I feel his resistance.
"James." I whisper his name like it's a plea and open my eyes. The way he's looking at me causes a knot to lodge in my throat and render me speechless. He's about to say something I’m not prepared to hear.
"Marry me, sweetheart."
