Page 120 of Don't Take the Girl
Sure, he was by my side for our first official doctor appointment today, but he was beside the bed watching the doctor examine me in a sterile environment, taking in everything she had to say about what comes next. There was weight in that moment, the clinical reality of charts and due dates and medical terminology that made everything feel official and overwhelming. However, this moment has an intimacy that one never could.Here, it's just me and him, no doctors, just his hands on my skin, feeling the subtle changes in my body with his own touch rather than through someone else's explanation.
He doesn't finish the sentence, but he doesn't need to. The truth is there in the way he looks at me, in the tremor of his hand against my skin, in the careful way he touches me. This is when it becomes real for him. His other hand moves to his pocket, where he pulls out a small black velvet box, the sight of it momentarily stopping my heart.
"I've been carrying this around for weeks," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I had it in my pocket at the cabin. I planned on putting it on your finger when I asked you to go to the courthouse, but then..." His words trail off, and I know where his thoughts went.
Talking about the wedding that day triggered him. London has always listened. He knows me better than I know myself. He remembers dreams I've forgotten, and when he heard me talk about a wedding with friends and family, he assumed I wanted to find my father, and he knew that wasn't possible.
"Hey…" My hand caresses the side of his face. "It didn't matter that you didn't give me the ring. You asked, and I said yes."
He takes a shaky breath. "You know what I realized?" His voice hitches. "We've been through everything—hell, heartbreak, and loss that should have destroyed us. We've hurt each other and walked away, convinced it was over."
He opens the box and lifts out the ring, and my lungs forget how to function. "But fate..." He shakes his head, almost laughing through the tears threatening to spill. "Fate kept dragging us back together. Every time we thought we were done, it was there, pulling us back together, waiting until we were brave enough to try again. We dared to prove that our story wasn't finished, that it was still being written. That our future, our love, is so much louder than our fear ever was."
He picks up my hand and places a delicate kiss on my ring finger. "Laney Hart, marry me. Not because our love is perfect,not because we have all the answers, but because we've already survived the worst of it. Marry me because I'd rather fight through life with you than live peacefully without you. Marry me because our love story isn't over. It's just beginning."
"I meant it the first time," I whisper, my voice breaking with emotion. "The ring doesn't change anything. I was already yours the moment you asked. I've been ready to marry you since I was ten years old, London Hale. With or without a ring, my answer has always been the same."
He slips the ring onto my finger like it was always meant to be there, but before I can even look at it properly, he's rising from his knees, and I'm launching myself into his arms. The collision of our bodies is desperate and hungry as the days of separation, fear, and uncertainty explode into this single moment of absolute certainty.
His lips bruise mine with fierce possession. Years of loving him are poured into this one kiss. I can taste the salt of my tears as his tongue sweeps against my lower lip, seeking entrance that I grant without hesitation.
The kiss deepens and becomes something primal and consuming. His fingers thread through my hair as he tilts my head to take the kiss deeper still. I melt against him, my body remembering every curve and angle of his, every way we fit together perfectly. His other arm wraps around my waist, pulling me flush against him until there's no space left between us.
The intensity of our embrace sends us tumbling backward onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. He catches himself on his forearms above me, his body caging me in, and for a moment, we just stare at each other, drinking in this moment.
"I love you," he whispers, his voice raw with years of wanting, of fighting fate and losing. "I've loved you since before I understood what love meant, carried you in my chest like a prayer I didn't know how to say. You're the constant in every version of my story, Laney, the beginning, the middle, and every ending I'll ever want," he whispers against my lips.
"I love you too," I whisper back, my voice breaking on words that carry the weight of every sleepless night I've spent loving him, every moment I thought I'd lost him forever. "You're written into my soul, London. You always have been. You always will be."
His mouth covers mine, hungrier than before, like he's trying to devour every word I just spoke and make them part of himself. His hands tangle in my hair, holding me to him as our tongues dance, both desperate for more.
"I need to feel you," he murmurs against my lips, his voice rough with want. "All of you." His hand glides up my side, pulling my shirt with it.
"We can't,"I moanwith disappointment, but his hand doesn't relent.
With my breast fully exposed, he cups it before pinching my nipple. "And why not?" he questions before sealing his lips over the peak. Fuck. My entire body arches into him. "My mom and Trigg are down the hall sleeping," I say, holding his head to my breast while rocking my hips against his, my body contradicting my words.
"If you're asking me to stop because of those intoxicating moans you make when I'm inside of you…you're going to lose. That's not a reason." His hand drifts to my leg, where he lifts it over his hip so he can press his hard length where I need it most. "My brother refuses to leave until he knows you're coming home with me." He presses against my clit, the sensation making me gasp. I'm so sensitive. "You screaming my name when you come undone around my cock accomplishes that."
His hands reach for my panties, but he doesn't pull them down. Instead, he fists the fabric in his hand before pulling hard and ripping it from my body, the sharp sting against my skin only making me burn hotter for him.
"What about my mom?" I pant as he drags his tongue up my stomach.
"This sexy body is growing my baby. I think she's well aware that you enjoy bouncing up and down on me."
The vulgarity in his words paint a vivid image I want to replicate. I need him. I'll suffer through whatever mortification I see on my mother's face tomorrow, because it pales in comparison to the desire I'm fighting now. I need him more than I need air. I push him back, and his wild eyes search mine, unbelieving that I could possibly reject him. My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I stifle a smile and reach for the hem of my shirt, slowly pulling it over my head.
"I don't care who hears. I'm looking at the only person who matters."
He falls on top of me, careful not to put weight on my body as his hands frame my face and his expression shifts. "What's wrong?" I ask as the eagerness that was there seconds ago slightly ebbs.
"Nothing, just taking a second to admire my whole world." His mouth drops to mine, and he kisses me long and slow, like he's savoring the feel of his lips on mine and the love between us. I feel his hand snake down my stomach before he pulls his joggers down and brings the tip of his cock to my entrance.
"You've been my every thought since the first time I looked through this window and saw you." His voice breaks on the words, years of buried longing spilling out. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you that from day one."
"We were kids, London. We didn't know anything about life and love." But even as I say it, my heart hammers against my ribs, because part of me had known too.
"I always knew." His confession comes out raw, desperate. His nose skims mine, and I can feel him trembling. "You've always scared the hell out of me, heartbreaker. The way you could destroy me with just a look, the way you made me want things I didn't think I deserved."
