Page 21 of Unexpected Redemption

He kisses me under my ear. “You’re.” Another kiss slightly lower. “Welcome.” And one more peck at my pulse point. “Sugar.”

Another moan frees itself from the back of my throat.Dang. I’m so primed for him right now. Perhaps this was part of his plan. He’s a genius. Once a sexpert, always a sexpert.

Maybe he’ll successfully resolve my little penetration problem tonight, after all.

Heh. Penetration problem. Sounds like the title of a horrible porno.

His lips rumble against the outside of my shoulder. “Shift your bottom forward a few inches so I can put on a condom.”

Ugh. I’m getting so sick of those. Such a mood killer. Logically, I get how necessary they are, but I wish they weren’t. It’s not like we’re with other people. If it weren’t for my pesky ovaries.

The rip of the foil packet meets my ears. He jostles me slightly as he rolls the latex over his heavenly cock.

Thoughts of the future fill my mind. Is it time to get on birth control? Am I ready for that? And when will he propose for real?

Obviously, I’ll say yes. That’s a given. If I could forgive him for all I have, there’s nothing that will stop us. And the way he’s opened up to me these last few days has cemented how right I was to give him another chance.

I hope I can convince Stella of that eventually. A slight cringe curls my upper lip at the thought of her. She still has no idea I’ve moved out of the shelter. I’ve texted her every day, saying all is well. The guilt over that is starting to hurt.

Tomer’s firm palms settle on my hips, shaking me from my woeful musings.

When my eyes spring open, they lock on the mirror in front of us. The beautiful white gold and purple choker shines back at me, warming my heart as much as my tush. Reflexively, my hand reaches for it. Fingers spreading, I press it into the sensitive skin of my neck.

My mouth does the Lettie thing of releasing whatever random thoughts spring into my head without care of consequences. “I can’t believe you were gonna propose-but-not-propose on our anniversary. And yet you didn’t.” I shake my head, lips pursing. “Unbelievable.”

“It would have been different if I had done it then,” he says with a tendril of remorse in his voice.

“How so?”

“Honestly, I’m unsure if I forgot to do it that evening orletmyself forget.”

My eyes narrow at his reflection, and my hand freezes on the back of his head.

Through the mirror, he meets my gaze, his eyes warm and loving. “Not because I didn’t want to collar you or give you a meaningful gift. And certainly not because I didn’t want to bind us.”

A scant wave of relief laps at my feet, encouraging me to wait for his explanation without jumping to conclusions.

He swallows, blinking twice. “Originally, I planned to give you that instead of an engagement ring because I couldn’t propose to you with all those lies out there. The collar was a solid alternative. But giving it to you when you didn’t know the real me felt wrong. I convinced myself it was okay since you could give it back anytime and for any reason. At the end of the day, though, it would have been wrong to ask you to claim me as James.”

For once, my trap stays shut, and I let his words permeate.

Everything he said makes perfect sense. And he’s right. Based on what he told me tonight about the symbolism this collar has for him, it would have been wrong to give it to me with all that dishonesty muddying the sentiment.

And hold up. Did he just say that...

“You wanted to propose to me before all this happened?”

So much for holding my tongue.

He tugs at my waist, twisting me to the side so I’m not forced to look at him in the mirror. “Lettie, I’ve wanted to marry you for a very long time. The first night I saw you sing at Bask, I knew no one would ever make me feel the way you do. The way you looked at me, effusing happiness and joy simply because I was there. My presence made you happy. You had no other expectation other than me watching you sing. That was all you needed. From that moment on, it was you or no one. Ever. Period.”

“Oh babe.” I drag the backs of my knuckles over his cheek, tracing the outline of his scruff, badly in need of a shave.

Damn my bleeding heart, making me agonize over what a horrible year he must have had knowing he was lying to me while loving me so deeply. No wonder he never said the words back. Despite what he did, he still tried to act with honor in the ways he felt he could control.

Somehow, we made it to the other side of all that mess.

I spear my fingers through the hair above his ear, curving my fingertips toward the back of his head. Tugging him toward me, I slant my lips over his and offer him what little I can to help him heal.

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