Probably. But even if she didn’t, he’d understand.
The relief of it... it felt like floating. Like being washed clean.
“Deal,” she said, fighting yet more tears. “Gods above, I love you more than I can express in EnglishorSwedish.”
Pushing up, she pressed her mouth to his in a tender, brief kiss that tasted like salt and elation. When she settled back on her heels, though, he still had his fists in her hair and fear in his eyes.
“Does that...” His throat worked. “Does that mean you’re coming back to me?”
“Yes.” Of course. Hadn’t he been listening?
He inhaled shakily. “You’re not leaving?”
“I never want to leave you again,sötnos.” Another quick buss on the lips, this one hard. An adamant claim on the man she adored.“Not as long as I draw breath on this earth.”
“And you love me as much as I love you?”
“More.”
Finally—finally—he smiled. “Not scientifically possible, Pippi.”
“Whatever.” Normally, she’d brandish a jar ofsillin front of his nose in retaliation for the Pippi crack, but even she had to admit—reluctantly—that not all moments were herring-appropriate. Including this one. “Any more questions?”
Because she’d really like to leave the uncontrollable-weeping portion of the morning behind and move on to the make-up-sex portion, and she suspected Peter would also appreciate that transition.
“One more.” Gently, he unwound his fingers from her hair. Then dropped to his knees.
Oh, good. He’d read her mind.
She laughed. “Peter, youknäppgök. You never need to ask if you can go down on me. The answer is always going to be yes.Always.”
“I’m not—” Ducking his chin to his chest, he huffed out a laugh. “Only you, Maria. Only you would mistake a heartfelt declaration of love and proposal of marriage for an inquiry about licking your pussy. Shit.”
A... proposal of marriage?
He wanted to be her husband?
Slowly, a smile spread across her face.Nej, abeam. Because while many committed Swedish couples didn’t care whether or not they ever legalized their union, she was still—sorry, Kerstin—very much an all-or-nothing kind of person when it came to love.
She didn’t give a fuck about weddings. But marriage? To Peter?
The sooner, the better.
Really, she’d have thought Peter couldn’t improve upon his performances the previous times he’d sunk to his knees in front of her, but bravo to him. As Jeanine would say:Peter Reedton. What a legend.
Still, she knew of one way to make this particular knee-sinking occasion even better.
“Are offers of marriage and oral sex mutually exclusive?” Reaching down, she slid her fingers through his hair in the way that made him shiver every time. “Because if not, I’m saying yes to both. Just to be clear.”
He only seemed to hear half her answer, sadly.
“You’ll—you’ll marry me? It’s not too soon for you?” Why on earth he sounded so shocked, she’d never know. “I’d have asked weeks ago, but I didn’t want to scare you off.”
She snorted. “I think you can safely say I’m not afraid of commitment, Peter. I’d make you my husband right this second if I could.”
The last traces of fear shuttering his eyes vanished, leaving only love and piercing joy. His expression, his posture—everything about him seemed to open. To bloom.
There wasn’t a hint of wariness left.