“I want a ring the size of my fist.”
He snorted. “Good luck with that.”
“And when we get married—”
“We’re not getting married.”
“I want a big house in the country, with a huge four-poster bed and one of those giant flat-screen televisions hanging on the wall.”
“And where am I going to find the money for that?”
I beamed at him. “I thought you said we weren’t getting married.”
“We’re not.” He turned to face me. “We can’t because I’ll be in prison for robbing a bank to pay for that fist-size ring you have your eye on.”
“And when we have babies—”
“We’re not having babies.”
“They’ll be blond and green-eyed and just like their dad.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m in love.”
“I’m not having babies, Molloy,” he whispered, giving me a lonesome look. “I can’t be a father.”
“Joe.”
“It’s a hard limit for me.”
“Okay.” Giving him a reassuring smile, I said, “No babies. We’ll have a fur-baby instead.”
“Hmm.” Turning back to stare at the ceiling, he inhaled a deep breath. “You might want to lower the bar with the mansion in the country, too.”
“Why?” I laughed. “What have you in mind?”
“Don’t know,” he admitted. “I never think about that kind of stuff.”
“The future?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
“Well, you better start thinking about it,” I teased. “Because you’re in mine, and I always get what I want.”
“Yeah.” He squeezed my hand. “I know.”
“So, do you want to keep talking?” Springing up, I reached for the hem of my T-shirt and whipped it off. “Or should we get naked and screw?”
“Jesus Christ.” Chuckling softly, Joey mirrored my actions and pulled his hoodie and T-shirt over his head. “Where did I find you?”
“Your dreams.” Reaching for the waistband of my knickers, I quickly shoved them down my thighs and clambered on top of his lap. “Hey, stud.”
“Hey, queen.”
“Queen?” My eyes danced with delight as I reached for the waistband of his sweats. “Now you’re talking my language.”
Lifting his hips, he pushed sweats and boxers down, freeing himself and giving me a close-up of his big damn dick. “I’ve never had this.”