Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26774 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 134(@200wpm)___ 107(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
I can't believe you're mine.
I can't believe you really want to marry me.
I can't believe this is really true.
He pulls me into his arms, his lips brushing the top of my head, and the tenderness of it nearly kills me.
I love you, Ronan.
It's the truth.
But the words remain stuck in my throat.
LIFE IS ALMOST PERFECT these days.
Almost.
In the weeks that follow the shower, I settle into a routine that feels like a dream I never dared to have. Each morning, I wake to Ronan's arms around me, his hands gentle as they trace the curve of my belly. He whispers to our daughter before he leaves for work, tells her to be good to her mama. Some days I help at the bookstore, carefully cataloging new arrivals while Thornton watches me with his hawk-like eyes to ensure I don't overexert myself. Other days I nest, preparing our home for the baby's arrival, arranging and rearranging the nursery until it feels just right.
And almost perfect.
Except for those three words I can't seem to say.
I love you, Ronan. I love you. So, so much.
The words have turned into a burden, but I still can't make myself say it.
All I can do is think of them endlessly...
And tonight is no exception, even when Ronan has brought me as a date to some doctors'-only event in his friend's hospital in Laramie.
"I still think you're showing too much skin," my fiancé grumbles as I hand over my coat and receive a number in return.
"All you can see are my shoulders," I protest.
"Exactly."
Can this man be any more adorable and sillier?
Heads turn as we enter, and the way Ronan commands attention wherever we go is still a thing I'm getting used to. He's always been gorgeous to look at, but Ronan in a tux? In one word: devastating...and it has me turned on so, so bad that I'm already wet under my gown, and I'm just really hoping Ronan won't find out.
Throughout the evening, Ronan is never far from my side. He fetches me drinks (non-alcoholic, of course), makes sure I'm sitting when my feet ache, and glares at anyone who comes too close with a champagne flute that might accidentally spill on my dress.
"You're hovering," I whisper during a lull in the conversation.
"I'm protecting," he whispers back, pressing a kiss to my temple.
When Ronan excuses himself to speak with a former professor, I find myself momentarily alone by the dessert table, my mouth watering at the array of delicate confections. The mini macarons are particularly tempting, their rounded tops adorned with edible pearls in pastel colors that match the decor of our nursery back home.
I'm just reaching for one when I sense someone beside me.
"The raspberry one's better."
I look up to find a young man—boy, really—beside me, his tuxedo slightly too large for his lanky frame. He can't be more than eighteen, with a mop of dark curls and a smile that's all boyish charm.
"Thank you. I shall take your word for it then." I pop the raspberry-flavored macaron into my mouth, and oh my gosh.
My eyes close.
Heaven.
When I open them, the boy is standing closer, his smile widening as he reaches for a macaron himself.
But I can't smile back...because Ronan is standing right behind him.
Hell.
And my fiancé does not look happy.
At all.
"Excuse me," Ronan bites out as he cups my elbow, and he steers me away before the boy can get a word in edgewise.
"Um—" I begin.
"Not one damn word."
"But—"
He glares at me, and I stop speaking and simply follow behind him as he takes us to a side door that leads to a balcony. Once outside, he locks the doors behind us, the soft click somehow more ominous than a slam would have been.
The night air is crisp against my bare shoulders, the distant mountains visible as dark shapes against the starlit sky.
Ronan turns to look at me, and I gulp at the glint in his eyes.
"Do you think I didn't know?" His voice is low, controlled, but with an edge that makes my pulse quicken.
"K-Know what?"
He moves toward me then, each step deliberate, forcing me to retreat until my back meets the cold stone of the balustrade. He places his hands on either side of me, caging me in with his body.
"I could smell your need for me the moment you got wet." His eyes burn into mine. "And so did the boy."
No way.
He must be kidding.
Right?
I look at him in horror, but Ronan's gaze only bores through me, and I think...I think I'm going to die of embarrass—
"R-Ronan?"
I can only stammer his name out when he suddenly drops to his knees before me, the fine fabric of his tuxedo meeting the stone floor. The sight of him kneeling there, still so elegant, so powerful even in this position, sends a fresh wave of heat between my thighs.