Douchebag. Does he have any idea how frantic I was?
He leans in to kiss me again, but I retreat, shaking my head. “Oh no, don’t you dare try to distract me.”
A resigned sigh puffs from his lips as they curl into a little half-smile. “Reach in my right jacket pocket.”
Sliding my hand between his shirt and jacket, I find the interior pocket and reach down, my fingers connecting with a small, velvet box.
Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.
My heart thuds in my chest and a loud rush floods my ears as I squeeze my eyes closed and try to catch my breath.
“Danika?” He takes my face in his hands and lifts my head up toward him. “Baby, look at me.”
I open my eyes and find his concerned ones staring back at me.
“Take a deep breath and pull it out.”
Seems easy enough.
In through the nose, out through the mouth. Breathe. Breathe.
Finally, the rushing sound in my ears dissipates and I can once again feel the box at my fingertips inside his pocket. I curl my hand around it and pull it out, opening my hand so the black box sits on my palm.
He reaches up, takes it from my hand, and flips it open, turning it to face me.
My breath catches again when I see the ring.
A beautiful solitaire. Simple. Perfect.
“I was going to ask you tomorrow night at dinner, but I don’t want to wait anymore. I don’t want to wait for anything with you. We’ve waited long enough.”
I couldn’t agree more.
I throw my arms around him, clutching him to me as the tears pool and streak down my face. He chuckles. “Is that a yes?”
Pulling away, I nod, because I won’t even bother to try to speak right now. Tears shimmer in his eyes and he pulls the ring from the box and slips it on my finger.
He kisses me softly and then pulls away, taking a deep breath through his tears. “When I met you, I found me—the real me, not the one I tried to be after the accident, but the one I actually am now. I can never thank you enough for that.”
For once, I don’t have any words. How could anyone respond to that? I want to tell him he did the same for me—that he helped me find who I’m really supposed to be, but words completely fail me.
“This is the start of our forever,” he whispers against my lips. I kiss him deeply, clenching my pussy around his semi-hard dick still buried deep inside me.
Our forever.
He’s right, this is the start of it, the start of something I never thought I’d have, and certainly not with the pussy peddler I set out so determined to hate. But, Savage is it. The moment we collided in his office, I knew I would never be the same. He’s proven to me that he’s the best decision I’ve made in my entire life.
I lose myself to him and his kiss again. There’s nothing and no one who will be able to destroy what we’ve built and fuck them if they try.
6 months later
Her knee bounces up and down furiously as she sits next to me in the exam room. I would love to tell her there isn’t anything to be worried or nervous about, but that would be a lie. I’ve spent enough time in hospitals and doctor’s offices over the last couple years to give me a healthy dose of anxiety whenever I find myself in another one of these white, sterile rooms, where the smell of antiseptic inevitably seeps into my nostrils.
This room is just like the others and I wonder if they are specifically designed to make you uneasy. I’m sure that isn’t the case. In fact, I remember reading some article about paint colors and how hospitals and doctor’s offices use light greens and blues because they are supposed to be soothing colors. Well, the barely blue, basically white walls of this room are doing nothing to calm me, and sure as shit are doing nothing to calm Danika.
I reach out and lay my hand on her knee. Her head snaps up and she looks confused. “What?”
Smiling at her, I move my hand and, taking her hand in mine, I bring it to my mouth, pressing my lips to smooth skin on the back. “You were driving me crazy with the leg thing.”
“Oh, sorry,” she says, squeezing my hand, “I didn’t realize I was doing it.”
“I know, baby.” She never does. It’s one of her nervous habits, along with pacing and biting her nails, and I can’t blame her for being nervous today. My own stomach is churning and the familiar taste of acid begins working its way up my throat.
It hasn’t exactly been an easy year for us and the shit with Abello was just the culmination of months of dancing around our issues. But, that’s over now. I don’t hide things from her anymore, and I don’t think it’s possible for her to hide anything from me—she’s too damn honest and has proven time and time again that she lacks a filter.