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“No, I do not do proposals,” he replied. “I will not pretend that I am capable of any kind of toxic romance that women have come to expect.” His eyes flickered down to his hands for a moment. A small moment, but the gesture was huge.

Jay kept eye contact. Always. No matter how hard it was to speak, no matter what he was speaking about. But he broke it with me now, in the moment I needed it the most.

My throat burned with the need for him to look at me once more.

After what felt like an eternity, he looked up and continued speaking as if he hadn’t just paused in what was most likely one of the most important conversations of my life.

“I do not think you hold such stock in traditional farces, but I will apologize if you expected romance or if this has disappointed you somehow,” he stated, hands fisted on top of the table. “Even marriage as an institution and the fanfare of it all rather sickens me. But I much like the idea of making you mine. In as many ways as I can. And since I plan on having you as mine for the rest of the time I draw breath on this earth, I think marriage is a great idea.”

I blinked at him again, fork still in the same place it was when he started speaking. I glanced at it then quietly set it down onto my plate before returning my gaze to Jay.

“You are aware that we have only recently gotten back together, and prior to us breaking up, we had only been together for six months. The majority of that time being involved in a rather businesslike arrangement that consisted of sex and not much else.” I pointed out, a slight bite to my voice.

I didn’t consider myself a hopeless romantic. Almost a decade of dating in L.A. had quashed any notions that romance existed beyond a guy paying for your Uber home or getting you an expensive dinner while flirting with the waitress the entire time. Yes, I was not a romantic, but it was a little jarring to have the man I loved approach marriage in such a cold way.

Then again, why was I surprised? The man I loved was cold. Didn’t I love him despite that? Or because of it? And wading through everything he’d just said, one could find a few romantic statements.

I plan on having you as mine for the rest of the time I draw breath on this earth.

Yeah, who needed cheap flowers or music or fanfare? That statement right there was the only thing my hungry heart wanted. It was an oath. One that Jay would not break.

Jay was staring at me, too, of course. I didn’t think there had been a moment since our reconciliation—apart from that chasm of a pause—when he had stopped looking at me. It was intense, unyielding, and I wasn’t sure if I would want to survive without it.

“You’ve been quiet for too long, Stella,” he rasped, his voice husky.

I blinked again. Jay’s hands were still fisted on top on the table. Veins in his neck were protruding, evidence of the force he was using to hold himself still, as if he was bracing for a blow. As if he was expecting a refusal.

It hit me then. Jay knew me. He knew a lot of things about me. Most likely more things than I knew about him, but he did not know my thoughts. I didn’t just make a grand statement about wanting to be with him until my dying breath.

Not out loud, at least.

Jay was scared.

Terrified, actually, if appearances were to be believed. This was a man who worked in certainties. Who made sure he could control everything around him so he could know the outcome, chase away any uncertainty like what he’d been forced to endure early in his life. That was what the arrangement was all about.

But we weren’t in an arrangement anymore. He didn’t get any reassurances, any promises when he got on that plane, when he broke into my rental last night.

This was the first time since I’d met him where he’d said more than I had.

My chair screeched against the hardwood floor as I stood, moving quickly toward him. Jay was standing by the time I got there.

It was hard not to stop to marvel at what he looked like, towering over me wearing nothing but his scars, but I managed.

I lifted my hands so I gripped either side of his neck, needing to touch him, needing our naked bodies to brush. My stomach dipped as he hardened against me, and need coursed through my veins.

“Jay Helmick,” I whispered, momentarily losing myself in his green irises. “I cannot explain it, I will never be able to understand it, but since the moment I met you, I have not been able to take a breath without your name on my lips. I have not been able to close my eyes without your face haunting me. And any future without you in it seems cold and abysmal. There is no way I could say no to forever with you.” A tear trailed down my cheek when I finished speaking, emotion filling me up to the point where it was impossible not to let it out somewhere. Hope, fear, happiness, love and pain mingled in my body, filling me up from my fingertips to my toes.


Tags: Anne Malcom The Klutch Duet Erotic