Page 126 of Playing With Danger

I gave her that. It was no secret how much I loved her. The brand-new bed her mother had insisted on buying us when I had a perfectly good mattress was proof. The new furniture was also proof. So was the addition of a shit-ton of toss pillows on the couch, and new towels throughout the house, and the pictures on the walls.

Whatever Sophie wanted, she got.

“Is me coming inside you without a condom your way of communicating you’re ready to start trying for a baby?”

“Well, if it wasn’t, we’d be in trouble since your dick’s so big you hit my cervix, and I’m pretty sure your swimmers don’t actually have to swim anywhere since you’ll just inject them where they need to go.”

I couldn’t stop my chuckle.

“And don’t take that as a complaint. A cervical orgasm can’t be beat.”

“Good to know.”

“I’m ready when you are,” she said softly. “But I just ended my period so I think we’re safe. Maybe.”

“Then I best find a time to give you your ring.”

I leaned down, pressed a kiss to her forehead, pulled out, and rolled to my side.

Sophie yanked the throw blanket off the end of the bed—this was a new addition as well—and covered herself as she pulled up to sitting.

“My ring?”

I smiled at her wide eyes.

“Yeah, baby, your ring.”

“You bought me a ring?” she sang and bounced.

Fuck, she was cute.

“Yes.”

“Can I have it?” she asked with another bounce.

“You can, when I find the right time to give it to you.”

Sophie launched herself at me, came up on her knees, and slapped her hands on my chest.

“Now’s perfect.”

I started chuckling.

“I’m not joking, Valentine.” She jostled over me. “Right now is splendid. Totally the right time.”

Good God, her excitement was gorgeous.

“Soph—”

“Please. Pretty please.”

Her still-damp hair was a stringy mess that fell over her shoulders, face clean from the minimal makeup she wore, cheeks still flushed from her orgasm, and she’d never been more beautiful than she was right then asking me for her ring. She didn’t care about the jewelry or the perfect timing. She cared about what that ring said.

She wanted the promise.

The future that promise held.

“Open my nightstand.”

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