Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
And it shocks me. So much that I step back from him with a hand on my chest.
Lifting his head, he takes one look at me, and closes his eyes on a sigh. “Been back an hour and I’m already fucking things up.” Rubbing absently at his chest, he clears his throat and explains, “I don’t like people touching my leg. Or even seeing it. It affects me a lot. So much that I suffer anxiety.”
He looks ashamed and embarrassed. And my gut rolls from the sight of him.
My hand drops to my side, and I approach him cautiously. The vein in his temple throbs, and I know he’s likely freaking out. When we meet toe-to-toe, I lift my arms and wrap them around his waist, resting my cheek on his chest. I breathe him in.
Same smell. Same everything. Almost.
Memories flood back. Silently chuckling, I ask, “Remember when I got drunk?”
He barks out a startled laugh. “Yeah. I do.” He strokes my hair. “My little hussy.” And I burst into laughter.
Suddenly, the teetering wall of awkwardness is broken.
We hold each other, laughing, and I look up into his smiling eyes. My face falls, and I speak around my thick throat. “Thought you were dead.”
His smiling eyes turn troubled. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry I didn’t come earlier.”
Sniffling, I utter, “No. You did what you had to do, and I’m just grateful that I’ve got you back. I don’t care about anything else.” Reaching up, I cup his cheek, stroking his jaw with my thumb. “What I do know is that I never want to be without you ever again. So I’m doing something right now that I should’ve done when I had you.”
Stepping back from him, I kneel, and he chokes out a startled laugh. Smiling like an idiot, I ask, “Adam Christian Taylor, born March eighteenth, nineteen-eighty-four in White Deer, Texas. I love you, and I will spend the rest of my life showing you just how much if you agree to marry me. I want you for life. You were never a fling or something to pass time. You mean the world to me. And I would be honored if you would be my husband.”
Face void, Nox staggers back towards the bed, sitting, leaving me kneeling in the middle of the floor.
…Awkward.
He says, “Come here, Lily,” and pats his thigh.
A little hurt at his lack of enthusiasm, I pout and stay where I am. Giving me a firm look, he pats his thigh again and says, “I said get over here, Lily.” And it’s so much like the old Nox that I stand immediately, and move over to him.
When I’m a foot away from him, he takes hold of my wrist and pulls me down onto his lap. Immediately worried about his leg, I blurt out, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
And what he says next makes me warm all over. “Been hurting a long time. You can’t see this type of hurt, though. Broken hearts don’t mend easily. And you’re not hurting me right now, baby. But even if you were, it would hurt so sweet.” Turning to face him, I kiss his lips softly and sigh. He pulls back a little. “Also, I love that you love me enough to want to marry me, but where I come from, it’s a man’s duty to ask. And I love knowing that when I’m good and ready to propose to my girl, she’ll say yes. But I don’t have a lot left to give, so please give me this, and let me do it in my own time.” He leans into my hair and murmurs, “But it’ll come soon, baby. After all this, I know I can’t live without you.”
And just like that, my hurt pride shrugs and smiles while giving me a thumbs up.
My eyes crinkle, and I place a slow kiss on his cheek. I answer softly, “Okay, honey.”
He reaches into his pocket and smiles. “Good. Because this ring has been weighing me down for three months.”
My eyes widen, and my mouth gapes, as I watch him open the red velvet box.
The white gold ring is simple and elegant, with a row of baguette diamonds across the top.
Biting my lip, I squeak and he laughs while asking, “Delilah Flynn. I love you more than I thought possible. I want to live the rest of my life with you, if you’ll have me.” Just about to answer, he adds, “I don’t know if I’ll ever be the man I was before. I just want you to know that, because I’ll understand if you don’t want a damaged man as a husband.”
Not even bothering to acknowledge that last statement, I bend down as he reaches up.
Our lips meet in a slow but deep kiss and I mutter against him, “I can’t wait to be Lily Taylor.”