“Sod all,” he mutters, flushing. “I told you I’d cock things up—”
I launch myself at him, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing his mouth to shut him up. He freezes for a second, as if too surprised to react, and then kisses me back, taking control. His hands hold my nape, and he goes at my mouth as if I’m the only one who can give him air.
It feels so good, and I’ve missed him so desperately, that I do cry—soft tears that he kisses away, whispering words of reassurance, stroking my cheeks with the rough pads of his thumbs.
I give him a watery smile when we break apart.
“You didn’t mess anything up,” I tell him, smoothing my hand over his hair. “You’re perfect. I love you, sunshine. Exactly how you are.”
He lets out a lengthy sigh and rests his forehead against mine. “Thank Christ for that.” His strong fingers grip my hips. “Tell me again.”
“I love you, Gabriel Scott.”
His smile is so sweetly pleased, I have to kiss it, taste it.
“Once more,” he demands. “I’m not certain I heard you correctly.”
“I love you, Gabriel Sunshine Scott!” My shout earns a couple of stares and a few chuckles.
Gabriel grins like it’s Christmas morning. “I love you too, Sophie Chatty Girl Darling. More than you’ll every know.”
I pepper him with kisses because he’s here, and he’s mine. “I’m sorry I ran off. I’m sorry I didn’t explain myself right away. It hurt you, and I never want you to hurt.”
“Thank you,” he says between my attacks on his mouth. But then he holds me still by cupping my cheeks. “I am rather annoyed about one thing, however. How could you have thought I’d send you away?” His gaze warms, but his expression is solemn. “You’re my life, chatty girl. It has no joy without you in it.”
Sweet man. I’m keeping him forever.
“I was afraid,” I admit with a cringe. “Afraid that you meant more to me than I meant to you. I wasn’t thinking very clearly.”
“Neither of us was.”
With a sigh, I kiss his brow, his cheek, wherever I can. “Why is it that we’re so very good at talking and so very shitty at fighting?”
Because there’s a difference between our bickering and when we’re really mad. I don’t have to explain this to Gabriel. I know by the amusement in his eyes that he understands me perfectly.
He nips at my earlobe. “Maybe it’s because we hate fighting and fall to pieces when we try. Truthfully, I’d rather wear polyester suits for the rest of my life than have another row with you.”
I gasp. “Don’t even joke about polyester!”
He chuckles against my skin, the sound sending little shivers of pleasure dancing down my body.
But then he grumps again. “And of all the places you have to go. Australia?”
Guilt twinges in my belly. I was so stupid leaving. “I needed to clear my head.”
“Clearing one’s head means taking a walk. Not going to the opposite side of the planet.” He eyes me with suspicion, but his expression is too happy and content for him to pull it off properly. “I’m beginning to think you wanted to torture me.”
“I was about to get off the plane to find you, Sunshine. Because being away from you is torture.” Which is the absolute truth. “So reassess that comment.”
As he hums dubiously, I snake my hand down his body to cup him. A choked gasp has me grinning. “Besides,” I say, giving him a light squeeze. “I have better ways to torture you.”
His hand settles over mine. “Behave yourself, Darling.” But he doesn’t move my hand away.
I feel him grow thicker against my palm. “I still can’t believe you got on a plane to Australia,” I say, subtly kneading him beneath our joined hands.
He shifts a bit, nudging up into my touch. “It’s my grand gesture, as Killian says. If you don’t understand how much I love you after this, there’s nothing for it.”
Smiling, I press my lips against his arm. “My grand gesture is going to be giving you head at some point during this flight.”
His cock twitches as I stroke it, and his voice comes out a tad rough. “Sexual acts on a plane are illegal, Darling.”
“Then you’ll have to be very quiet while I suck you.”
I love the strangled sound in his throat and the way his dick goes rock hard against my palm, despite his weak protests.
“Sophie,” he says, returning to the stern tone I love. “You never actually gave me an answer.”
“Mmm?” I stop my exploration and meet his gaze. He waits, one brow raised, a muscle ticking on his jaw. “Oh, you mean the ‘cocked up’ proposal?”
“Darling…”
“I’m going to want babies,” I tell him with a smile. “And to dress them up as Princess Leia or Han Solo on Halloween.”
His answering smile is so pleased, the look in his eyes so anticipatory, that it makes me a little dizzy. “I look forward to giving you babies. And I vote for a Spock costume.”