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“I fell in love with you the day you cooked crunchy enchiladas and rice soup for my eighteenth birthday.”

“That wasn’t soup,” I scolded with a laugh.

“I know it wasn’t supposed to be,” he said, playing offended when I slapped his chest.

“But, oh God, it was the worst,” he chuckled. “You were so broken hearted when your entire family took a bite of crunchy enchiladas.”

“I didn’t know I had to soften the shells in oil,” I said. “It was a beginner’s mistake.”

“You looked so beautiful in your white sundress, damn near in tears. You were trying so hard. My heart broke for you.”

“You ate every bite and asked for seconds,” I murmured.

“I loved you then, Dallas. Maybe even before. I would eat crunchy enchiladas and soupy rice my entire life if it meant I got to do it with you. But I’m hoping you got a little better at it by now.” He chuckled, nipping at my neck. He pulled back again to make sure he had my attention as I looked at him in question. “You are a lot of sass and bite, Dallas and I love it. Maybe it’s the Spaniard in me. But what I love most is that heart you try so hard to hide. It’s so easy to see, and when you love, you love me so well.” He cupped my face in his hands as he spoke next. “Dallas, the greatest give you’ve ever given me was a piece of your heart. I’m going to have to ask for that back now. I need it.”

“You already have it,” I whispered pressing my lips against his.

“I know,” he whispered back.

“Dean?” I questioned, getting lost in his kiss.

“Quemi amor?”

“I’ve really been blind, but I think I always knew how much you loved me. It was so hard to be in love with the most beautiful and wanted man in school. I still can’t handle the way they look at you at work now. I know I haven’t been an easy woman to love, but you seemed like an impossible man to keep. I just never really believed you were really mine. You were always so much larger than life. I always felt like I wasn’t enough.”

“I’ll never give you a reason to worry about that, Dallas. You place too much importance on that stuff, and I never have. You forget how beautiful you are and how much I want you.” He lifted my chin. “The best I have ever felt in my life is when I lose myself in my love for you. No other woman can compare with that. And then there’s always the fact that I’m going to marry you.”

I smiled broadly. “Well, I mean, it is a consensual thing. You may want to ask first,” I said, lifting a brow.

“I can be very persuasive, baby.” He ground his hips into mine, his length hardening again. “Tell me what you want now, and let me give it to you.”

“Being a doctor wasn’t the only dream I’ve ever had.”

“I know.”

“It’s so simple, isn’t it? Just to be with you, be yours. How the hell did we screw this up so badly?”

“We fell in love at an age when I couldn’t act on it. And then…we fell deeper in love at an age when we were only meant to cross paths. It wasn’t really our fault. It was the workings of fate.”

“And now?”

He smiled broadly. “I made fate my enemy and took matters into my own hands.”

“Way to go, Martin.”

He stood up with us still connected and his pants at his ankles then awkwardly carried us up the stairs. I heard my phone vibrate in my purse and made him stop.

“Come on, it’s Christmas Eve,” he started to fuss, but I silenced him.

“Beatrice,” I reminded him. He quickly conceded, but refused to take himself out of me. I laughed as he made his way back down the steps, tightening his hold on me as he grabbed my purse and then made his way back up the stairs. I was laughing hysterically as he mummied his way to his room, victory in his face when we landed on the bed, and he thrust deep inside me. I relished in the feel of him as I heard my phone again.

I lifted it out of my purse to glance at it as he cupped my breast and lifted his eyebrow. I shook my head to discourage him. He reluctantly pulled out of me and I sat up quickly, noticing the number of missed calls.

“Oh God, I have ten missed calls from my mother!” I pressed redial and held my breath. My father was all I could think of.

Please, God, don’t let anything be wrong with my father.

“Dallas,” my mother sobbed into the phone.

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