As we remained in quiet contemplation, he took my hand and squeezed it gently. I turned to face him, and he scratched his jaw while gazing into my eyes as though he had something important to say. He continued to stare at me without blinking.
I shook my head. “What?”
“Will you marry me?”
Now that, I hadn’t expected. I took a moment to respond as I searched his face for hesitancy. He smiled shyly.
Hadn’t I sworn off marriage? I’d also sworn off living with a man, and that was exactly what we’d been doing that past couple of months—effortlessly.
“You can think about it if you like,” he said after a long gap had passed. He bit his lip and scratched his cheek, something he did when challenged.
“You don’t have to, you know. We’re doing really well as we are. Aren’t we?” I asked. My heart wanted to punch me in the nose for that wishy-washy response.
“You don’t want it?” He squinted in the late-afternoon sun. With that dark tan, he reminded me of a hot Mediterranean hunk.
“You told me you didn’t believe in marriage. Remember?”
“That was me, the irresponsible party boy.”
I laughed. “And what’s this latest you, then?”
He moved his head from side to side to stretch his neck. “I love being a father. I take that role seriously. I worry about him. I’m even missing him right now. As I miss you when I’m away in London.”
Tears pricked my eyes. The earnest shine in his gaze mirrored my own feelings about our son. “Me too.”
He kissed me sweetly on the lips. “I just like being with you. I like hanging out with you.”
“Oh? And that’s all?”
He ran his hands up my thigh and under my skirt.
“Can I answer you later?” I asked.
“Sure. You’re right, though. We are together. Aren’t we?”
“I’m not going anywhere. A house in Antibes. Overlooking the ocean. I can’t wait for Cian to come here.”
“Is that all? Just all the nice things.”
“No. I’d be hot for you if you were homeless, Ethan. It’s nice to have these pretty things, but deep down inside, they are meaningless without this.” I ran my hand over his lips and caressed his cheek lovingly. We locked eyes and smiled sweetly.
It was all getting too saccharine for me, and I ran my hands down his six-pack towards his dick. “And this. I love your dick.”
“And I love your pussy.” He ran his hands over my breasts. “And I love your tits.” Then he looked into my eyes. “But your eyes are your best feature.”
I smiled.
Yep, we were pretty loved up.
We walked back hand-in-hand.
“What’s for dinner?” I asked.
“Mm… something starting with a sixty-nine.”
I laughed. “You’re a genitalphile.”
Swinging my arm, he chuckled. “More like a pussyphile.”