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“But first, there is one thing I need to do.”
She screws her face up. “More than vigorous sex up against awall?”
“Well, no, but it has to get done because I remember promising you.” The confusion on Ophelia’s face is adorable.
I slide her down my body. Take my phone out and find the instrumental version of the song I need.
“Will you dance with me?”
“Okay.” She grins, totally up for whatever I have planned.
I pull her body close to mine like we will waltz and start the song.
Looking up at me with a knowing broadening smile spreading across Ophelia’s face, I start singing Herb’s lyrics to “Reunited” by Peaches and Herb, tweaking the lyrics to suit us.
She softly laughs while I take the lead, moving us slowly around our dance space, serenading her.
And then she starts singing Peaches’ lyrics—really badly—but follows my lead by tweaking the lyrics.
Somewhere during the chorus, we stop singing and swaying. “Ophelia-Hamlet-Shakespeare-Spitfire-Shagspeare, I love you. Promise me you will never give up singing.”
“I love you and I promise to remain tone-deaf unless a miracle happens.”
“And I also promise you, everything between us is going to work out because I don’t do complicated. I am a problem solver. Your happiness is my top priority. We’ve got this, even the things your mind is terrified of, I’ve got your back, and there is no bridge we can’t build and cross together.”
More unshed tears threaten to spill, but she’s a trooper blinking them away. “Can it be that simple with you?”
“For the most part, I think so. I love you more than anything, Ophelia, and I don’t want ever to make you sad or disappointed in me, and I only ever want you to shine. I can’t predict the future, but right now—”
She crushes her mouth against mine, knocking the black cap off my head so she can use my hair like reins guiding my face toward her, controlling where her kisses fall. “You are mine, Tucker Royal,” she whispers sweetly, but her body language tells me she’s hungry.
“Music to my ears, and FYI, I’m not ever letting you go.”
“I’ll hold you to that. Now we need to get our clothes off.”
Best closing statement ever.
Seventy-Five
HUMBLE PIE
Phoenix
I’ve slept for three hours and behaved myself for Slade. He is sound asleep beside me. I kind of feel bad for trying to make a run for it earlier. The man was exhausted.
I’m acting up because I am embarrassed that I got shot. I feel humiliation at getting laid up in bed. I don’t like to look weak, and here I am back at square one.
Sharing the bed with Slade has been no great hardship.
It’s been nice.
More than nice.
It feels right, but still, my mind wants to fight the possibilities.
I carefully reach out because the painkillers are starting to wear off, and I take my phone from the bedside table and check for messages.
What the hell?
