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I felt my brows shoot up. “That was fast. Are you going to accept it?”

“No. They went in too low.”

Although he’d only recently put his house up on the market, he hadn’t really lived in it since we’d returned from London seven months ago. Nope, he’d pretty much moved into my home that very night—bringing his clothes, instruments, and other important possessions over little by little as the days went on.

He’d meant what he said when he declared that I wouldn’t get a modicum of space from him. But it was all good, because I didn’t mind one bit. Kaiser had a huge presence, but having him close was too comforting for me to feel smothered. Maybe because he was so steady and solid and grounded. Oh, and because I loved the crap out of him—something I hadn’t gotten around to confessing because I was a total chicken.

A knock came at the door, and a voice told him he needed to get moving.

Kaiser rolled back his shoulders. “Here, put that on.”

Looking down at the object he’d pressed into my hand, I felt my world stop. It was so shiny. So exquisite. So utterly perfect. I licked my lips. “Kaiser—”

“Got shit to do. Put it on.”

I gaped at him. “That’s your idea of a proposal?Put it on?”

He fisted my tee and pulled me close. “I love you. Love you in a way that I know I’m never gonna stop. I’ve never been anchored to any one spot. Ever. I don’t have a single connectionor attachment to any place in this world. I’ve got one root. You. And it’s the only root I’m ever going to want. So put. It. On.”

My insides completely melted. “Okay.” The word came out on a croak.

Once he released my tee, I slid on the ring. God, it was beautiful and fit perfectly. The backs of my eyes stinging, I cleared my throat. “In case you hadn’t already guessed, I love you, too.”

Satisfaction glimmered in his eyes. “I’d guessed.” He took my mouth in a branding kiss that screamed ownership and then lightly squeezed my hip. “We’ll celebrate later. Let’s move.”

Minutes later, a smile of pride curved my mouth as we both stood backstage. The audience was chanting my guy’s name, their combined voices deafening. It was a reception he more than deserved.

When his name was announced, he gave me a quick kiss and then strolled onstage. Fog gathered, and spotlights bore down on him. Hanging back out of sight, I watched the crowd go crazy.

Most musicians bid their audience hello and all that jazz. Not Kaiser. He cast them a frown and asked, “What the fuck are you all doing here? Don’t you have better shit to do?”

That only made the crowd go wilder.

A song we’d worked on together began to blast, and off he went. Under the glare of the multicolored spotlights, he launched from one song to another, owning the stage, seducing the audience, creating the most intense atmosphere—everyone there fed on it.

They also went freaking gaga when he shrugged off his jacket.

The amount of noise in the place was seriously near-deafening. I could feel the vibration of the bass in my chest andthrough the soles of my feet. Every insanely loud applauserangin my ears.

Fans stood shoulder-to-shoulder. They screamed, jumped, sang, surged, bopped their heads, waved lighters, and held up phones to record the concert. Whenever he aimed his mike at them, they practically bellowed out the lyrics. A few women also flashed him their boobs or tried throwing panties onto the stage.

At one point, after he took a moment to rest and chug down some water, he turned to the audience and said, “So. Yeah. I don’t write songs for women. Fuck that romantic bullshit.”

I rolled my eyes, smiling.

“But this song wormed its way into my head and wouldn’t go away. Practically wrote itself. It’s about a certain someone.”

Wait, what?

“A someone who’s actually backstage right now.”

Oh, the cheering went insane.

“And who earlier slid my ring on her finger.”

I winced as the crowd lost their damn minds. I could just imagine Judy sitting at home, bouncing on her chair like a demented kangaroo.

“So I’m gonna play it here and now.”

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