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"Girlie, I wish we could. Actually, I have to go soon. Ma just texted. She needs help with something for the holiday,getting some decorations out of storage. I wanted to wake you to say goodbye and to ask you something."
I stroke his beard with my finger. It's nice and full now. I make ammmmnoise.
He kisses me softly, and the butterflies alight in my stomach. Surely, we have time for a quickie. I probably can talk him into it. I wrap one leg around his and sigh contentedly.
"What did you want to ask?" I reach to squeeze his bare butt. God, I adore his tight ass muscles.
He takes a deep breath and little frowny lines form between his brows. I shift so I'm propped on my elbow.
"What?" The butterflies in my stomach have been replaced with moths of dread.
"I've been thinking about your health condition. I did some reading on it this week online. And ah—" His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. "You know that my job as a contractor is to find solutions. Solve problems."
"Yeah," I say slowly.
"I think I've found a solution to your problem."
Considering the amount of research I've done on my high cholesterol, including the cost of apheresis treatments and medicine in other countries, I highly doubt he's found a way to help me out of an impossible situation.
"The solution is to blow up the American health care system and do away with money-hungry insurance companies," I mumble.
Fat chance of that.
But Damien, being so caring and kind, is trying to help. What a sweetie. I smile at him.
"What did you find?" I trail my finger over his sharp cheekbone.
"I was thinking that we should get married, Kate. That way you can be on my health insurance as my wife and get all the treatments and medicine you need. I want you to be healthy."
damien
. . .
Kate sits up.The sheet slips from her chest, exposing her gorgeous tits. My gaze falters because I can't tear my eyes from her naked body.
Whenever I'm around her, I'm distracted by her beauty. Because of this, I probably should have made my proposalaftershe put on clothes, so there would be less of a chance I'd make a fool of myself.
Too late for that.
"Hey. Up here." There's an edge to her voice.
"Sorry." I raise my eyes.
"What did you just ask?"
I lick my lips. This isn't going the way I thought it would. The idea of marriage was a solid one, I believed. It would solve so many problems for her. It would prove how much I care for her, instantly. And it would leave her set for life in case anything happens while I'm on assignment in Syria.
But the way she's staring at me, with eyes that are huge and hard, catches me off guard. It's jarring me out of the safe cocoon I'm normally in when I'm with Kate. Usually, the hours with her are wrapped in a hazy, happiness-tinged hue, and I can forget about all the awful shit I've seen in Mosuland Baghdad and all the shit I'maboutto see in Syria. But her glare is bringing me back to reality, and it's not pleasant.
Suddenly, the room seems too bright. Kate likes to open the curtains at dawn, and I climb out of bed and walk to the window. With a yank of the cord, I draw the drapes half-shut.
"I thought I'd try to help you." I ease back into bed.
"Help me or pity me?" she snaps.
"Help you." My voice is sharper than I intend.
God, women are so confusing. Kate is so confusing.
