Page 35 of Colt
“You haven’t given me an answer,” he said, stroking my hair back. It fell around my jaw and probably looked a mess.
“You didn’t ask.”
He tipped his head up enough to kiss me. “Molly Simon. I love you and want to spend the rest of my lifewith you. I want to keep those handcuffs attached to the headboard forever. Will you please marry me?”
I grinned, my gaze flicking to the cuffs tucked around one of the wooden slats, just waiting for me to bebadagain.
“Yes, Colt Wilder. I will marry you. And I want that family with you. I want to stop practicing.”
He frowned. “Practicing?”
“Making babies.”
A grin spread across his face, even bigger than when I said yes. Because this meant I didn’t only want his ring and his name, but I wantedeverything.
“Don’t take the pill this morning.”
“Okay.”
He growled, lifted me up so I straddled him. Between us was his still-hard dick. “Climb on, mama.”
He took me again. And again. And again. Until later in the month when I took the test and found out practice made perfect.
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