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She stills, a finger running over the book that’s lying inside the junk drawer. “What’s this doing here?” she asks, pulling her copy of Pride and Prejudice out.
I swiped it from her room, and added a message to the front of it. I wasn’t going to give it to her until the bookshelf was complete. “Nothing,” I say too fast. “Someone must have put it there when they were renovating.”
I try to swipe it back, but she’s already opening the front, reading what I added. My heart stops. Time stands still. This is not how I wanted to do this, but I guess this is how it’s happening. I reach into the drawer, where she clearly missed the tiny black velvet pouch that holds my mother’s ring.
Her hand falls over her mouth, and the emotional, clingy side of her wins as she starts to cry.
“Read it out loud,” I say, dropping to a knee.
She shakes her head, clutching it to her chest. “Jameson,” she says through a shaky breath. “Of course.”
I shake my head, delicately forcing the book out of her clutch. I flip to the page, and read it for her. “Saoirse. Since the first moment I returned home I found you to be the most stubborn and difficult woman I’ve ever met. Yet, you continued to steal my breath away, and every day we are apart is the same as never being able to breathe. ‘Which, despite my struggles, has overcome every rational objection. And I beg you, most fervently, to relieve my suffering and consent to be my wife.’”
“You mean, make it legal, more modern and less caveman?” She laughs, nodding her head. “Yes.”
I sigh, pulling the ring out of the pouch and sliding it onto her hand. It’s not the emerald I want her to be wearing, but it’s the sentimental value that matters. We’ll get something custom made to match later. I slide it onto her finger and she drops, throwing herself into me so hard that I stumble back and land on my ass.
I chuckle, kissing her cheek.
“It’s a good thing you finally asked,” she murmurs.
“Why?”
“Because the venue is booked for two months from now.” She grins, kissing me again. “I was going to drag you down the aisle kicking and screaming if you hadn’t officially proposed by then.”
My mouth drops. “You weren’t going to let me help plan my wedding?”
“I’m in hospitality, Jameson. You never had a chance of planning a single thing.”
She presses a finger to my lips, silencing my protests. “The Darcy quote was a nice touch.”
My chest relaxes, letting the tension of my nerves dissipate. “It was, wasn’t it?”
Epilogue
Warmfleshsettlesagainstmy back. Soft, supple tits that send my cock twitching. Saoirse’s hands glide to my front, down to my aching morning wood. She inhales, then lets out a groan.
Her lips press to my shoulder. “Your phone keeps going off,” she whispers, her voice husky from sleep. “Make it stop and I’ll give you a blow job.”
I groan, allowing myself to hear the vibrating coming from my nightstand. “Quiet.”
“It’s two in the morning, Jaime. It’s got to be one of my brothers. And if it is, I’m going to kill them. No more mafia. Remember?”
Her words sober me as I reach for the phone. I’ve been duty-free for a while now, with no late-night calls. My sleep has been great, and I’m just as pissed as her if itisone of her brothers.
The caller I.D. flashes with Declan’s name, and I let out a sigh. “What do you want?” I snap, resting my back against the headboard.
Saoirse moans, rolling so her back is facing me. I reach out, stroking her while I wait for a response.
“Hey, Scotty. It’s Jimmy from O’Doul’s,” the bartender says, his Irish brogue thick.
My spine stiffens. “Is Declan okay?”
“He’s pretty toasted and refusing to leave. I didn’t know who else to call, but we can’t have him in here picking fights with the customers.”
“Alright, Jimmy. I’ll be there in twenty.”
“No,” Saoirse snaps, sitting up to glare at me. “No more runs.”
