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.”
