Page 24 of Wrapped Up in Holly

Then he literally lifted me up, situating me so my legs wrapped around his waist, and he popped open the little jewelry box. Inside was a plain gold band with a tiny diamond.

It was perfect.

He removed it and held it out to me. “Will you marry me?”

I took the ring from him, sliding it onto my fourth finger, and didn’t bother answering him. Instead, I crushed my mouth to his, pushing him down to the bed. I worked his pants and underwear down, and he shucked his shirt off.

I brushed my hands over the hair on his chest and kissed his breastbone then lower over the ridges of his abs, following the line of hair to his erection. When I curled my fingers around it, his muscles went rigid.

He combed his fingers through my hair, urging me to look at him. “I love you.”

I smiled and flattened my left palm on his stomach. “Love you, too.”

He briefly toyed with my ring, a smile on his face. Until I took him in my mouth. Then my fiancé exhaled roughly through parted lips, his eyes squeezed shut. I cupped my hand around hisballs as I licked and sucked him, but I was unsteady using only one hand.

“You have to let go,” I said, my lips brushing against his shaft.

He stared down at me and shook his head. “No, I don’t.”

“If you want me to do a good job.”

“Babe, your mouth on me anywhere at any time, doing anything is a good job.”

When I kissed the tip and licked the bead of moisture away, he finally let go of me and tucked his arms behind his head, watching me. I wrapped my hand around the length of him, pumping it as I sucked, and color rose high in his cheeks.

“I’ve been looking into urban farming,” he said quietly.

“Hmm?”

His thighs clenched at my hum around him.

“Urban farming here. I learned a little bit about it in school, but I figured?—”

“What are you talking about?” He didn’t want me to talk while he was going down on me, but here he was, giving me a soliloquy about urban farming?

“It may take a while for me to find a job, but?—”

I sat up, my hands on his thighs. “No really, what are you talking about?”

“Moving here. Finding a job.”

“I don’t…” I scrambled to his side. “I don’t want you to move here.”

He sat up. “So, what do you want to do? Live apart?”

He sounded both hurt and angry, and I threw myself at him. “No. Of course not. I want to move home. With you.”

“But…how?”

“What do you mean, how?” I laughed into a kiss. “I’m going to pack my stuff and come home.”

“Butthisis where you live. Where you work.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want to live here. I don’t want to work here.”

He scratched the side of his head. I hadn’t seen him this confused since trying to find the symbolism in Hamlet. “I thought you loved modeling.”

“I do, but I also know I don’t want to do it forever. I can’t do it forever becauseyouare my forever. I want to be with you, where you are.”

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