Instead of replying to Dawson’s initial question about what was bugging me, I leaned forward to capture his lips. A slow, searching kiss, slipping my tongue into his mouth, reveling in the taste of him. The zip of that energy that coursed through us as we came together charged back to life. Joining us. Furiously burning off the hydrogen to leave only the “us” we were meant to be behind.
His fingers drifted up and down my bicep but didn’t travel further. His normal reaction to me kissing him this way in the morning would have been to slide that hand all the way down my body until it reached my core.
Instead, he paused and demanded, “Talk to me, Vi.”
I looked up at the ceiling and the invisible formula I’d written there.
I was barely twenty-three. Too young. Too much to do to even consider being a mom. But the thought had carved a spot in my heart. Dawson was twenty-nine. He’d accomplished more than he’d ever thought he would. The yachts Dax and he had designed to win theConquistar de la Atlánticacup had been in high demand ever since, making him a multi-millionaire several times over. That was on top of the purses they won racing. On top of what we were getting out ofForce de la Violette.
Sometimes, our life now seemed inconceivable to me after years spent watching Jersey struggle to bring home mac and cheese to a hotel room we barely had the money to pay for.
I closed my eyes and then opened them again to look into Dawson’s brown ones. They were a warm amber. A comfort. He was waiting, but his concern was growing, and I felt like an ass. I blew out a breath and said, “For a brief moment in time, I thought I might be pregnant.”
His hand on my arm stilled then restarted again. He was careful to keep his emotions blank, wanting mine to be the path for the discussion, and it made me love him more than I already did. Because he wouldn’t push what he wanted onto my feelings.
“But you’re not?” he asked.
I shook my head, swallowing hard, looking at his chest and the smooth skin. He tucked his fingers under my chin, lifting it so I was forced to let him see the tears that glittered there unshed.
“You wanted to be pregnant?” he asked, this time unable to keep the hint of surprise out of his voice.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Of course not.”
“But you’re still upset.”
“I just thought… A little piece of us…going out in the world. A cousin for Nell. You…holding our baby.” I let my heart hurt and then pushed it aside. “But it isn’t what we want right now.”
“Don’t say that,” he said. “We haven’t even talked about it.”
“I know. Which obviously means we aren’t ready, right?”
He moved his hands again, setting them on my waist, pulling me so that every inch of me was tucked up against him, feeling his morning wood at the core of me. He pulled my leg so that my thigh was over the top of his, the angle causing the friction to build without even a hitch of our hips.
“I want babies with you, Violet Banner. I want as many as you want to have. I also want to put a ring on your finger, walk you down an aisle, and make sure the world knows that we are one unit. I don’t care the order those things happen, even if society does. But if you want to work on a baby, then maybe we should go down the aisle first.”
I chuckled. “Was that you proposing to me, Dawson?”
He smiled, joy making his eyes glitter like sparklers going off. “Shitty way to do it, but nothing about us has ever been the norm.”
He sat up, pulling me with him. I was on his lap, both legs wrapped around his middle now. He pulled my hand from his shoulder, kissed the knuckles, and said, “Marry me, Violet.”
It wasn’t flowery words. It wasn’t a candlelight dinner. But it was Dawson giving me his heart and his body and his life. The sixteen-year-old Violet who’d done a touchdown dance after he’d simply called me to come and get him was leaping around inside me. The older Violet just smiled.
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay?” His grin grew.
“On one condition,” I said.
And his smile faltered just a little.
“What’s that?” he said.
“We do it out at sea with just the family. I don’t want it to be a big, societal, Jada nightmare.”
“I love this idea.” His grin returned. “But we’ll have to have two boats. One to get married on, and one for me to whisk you away on our honeymoon. We’ll sail to Hawaii and then maybe go south from there to Fiji and the other Pacific Islands.”
“How long do you think this honeymoon is going to last?” I asked. “We have two companies to run.” But I was already losing all thought because he’d begun a slow kiss down my neck, pulling aside the tank top I wore to bed, kissing the swell of my breast, finger finding the other nipple.
