“You might recall I was trying to lure you back into my bed.”
“Second, two words: Salma Hayak.”
“We have a little girl crush, do we?”
Her eyes roll. “She’s fun to watch, now let me up!” She struggles, and I kiss that little hollow at the base of her throat before releasing her.
She giggles, and with her back to me, she scoots her back against my chest, her ass right at the level of my cock. Needless to say, it’s a few minutes before we’re watching any more of the show, and I’m far more relaxed with my morning wood gone.
“I missed my favorite part!” Zelda pushes to a sitting position, and her blonde hair is standing nearly on end.
I can’t help it. I laugh out loud. “Your sex hair is insane.”
She blinks and tilts her face to the side. “I worked on it all night just for you!”
Something hits me right in the gut, and I know I can’t put this off one more second. Zelda sees my expression change and her teasing disappears.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
Sitting up beside her, I grab her waist and pull her across my lap in a straddle. Her hands are on my shoulders, and I reach up to hold her cheeks in both my hands.
“Zelda?”
She does a little smile. “MacCallum?”
“I want you to marry me.” Fuck. Yep, I said it. “I don’t have a ring yet, but there are several jewelry stores in Road Town. We have to go back to Monagasco, but I’ll talk to Rowan about us living here—in Tortola—once things are resolved, of course…” Her eyes blink faster the more I speak, and I see the glisten of tears in them. “What’s the matter, beautiful? Did you think I wouldn’t ask?”
“What are you saying?” she whispers.
“I’m saying I want you to be my wife, Zelda Wilder. Shit, we’re fucking made for each other, and if you can’t see it… well, I won’t believe you. You’re too smart not to see it.”
She pushes off my lap to sit beside me. “But what will you do? I know you’re a prince and all, but you must have some job—”
“It’s true. Sadly, I can’t lie around all day fucking you and drinking champagne, but they have French Virgin Islands.”
“They do?” Her brow lines.
“Technically, they’re called the West Indies, but Martinique, St. Garth, Guadalupe…”
“But… what does that mean?”
“I don’t know exactly, but I’ll discuss it with Rowan. I’m sure we can figure out some diplomatic reason for me to be here. We’ll work it out.” She’s quiet, looking at me with her lips slightly parted. I exhale a laugh, and shit. My stomach is tight with nerves. “Just say yes, beautiful.”
Her mouth closes, and she blinks down to her lap before she starts fucking shaking her head. “No,” she says softly.
My jaw tightens. “Why the devil not?” I don’t mean to be sharp, but god dammi
t.
She looks up fast, blue eyes round. “Not yet.”
Okay, that response eases my temper slightly. “Go on…”
“I can’t marry you with dirty hands.” She slides to the edge of the mattress and stands. “I have to meet with Seth today and settle our accounts. Let me…” she looks around before pulling that silly penis tee over her head. “Let me end things with him, separate. Then…”
Her breath catches, and I’m out of the bed standing in front of her. She’s so small without her heels, her head is only at the center of my chest. In a sweep, I lift her, her legs going around my waist, her arms around my neck.
“Then?” I say, looking up at her worried expression.