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“Yes.”

“Then I guess if you are still thinking like this later, we can have one of our famous movie nights.” I placed my hands on his shoulders. “Though it might involve fewer clothes.”

“Fucking oath it will.” He lifted me up. “You busy tonight?”

“Um, I might be going to Layla’s. Not sure, why?”

“It’s Sunday.”

I groaned. “Dad’s or Mum’s?” Sunday was our family dinner. Every week we had it.

“Seeing as you’ve missed the last two, I’m not surprised you don’t know which one we are up to.”

I rolled my eyes.

“It’s your dad’s.” He lowered me to the bed. “Now, do you remember the rules?”

I frowned. “Rules?”

“Every club party, every family dinner, all the time—you are with me? Understand?”

I gulped. Right, those rules. Slowly, I nodded my head. And I felt like, by agreeing to them, I was automatically letting him down. I shouldn’t be making relationships, not when I was sick. Yet, here I was, agreeing to being his.

“So tonight, where will you be sitting?” he whispered in my ear while his hands ran up the inner of my thigh.

“Next to you.”

A smirk spread across his face. “You have always been a fast learner.”

Before I could say another word, his lips were on mine and I knew where this was heading and I couldn’t be any more excited for it.

Was there anything better than making love to the man you loved?

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