His voice is dark and lustful when he says, “Oh, believe me, I know.”
“It doesn’t seem fair to all the other wives that I’m going to have the world’s hottest husband.”
His expression intensifies, and I see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “You’d better not say that again, or we’re not getting out of this apartment tonight. Jesus, Liss.” He pulls me into his arms, and as our bodies press against each other, I can feel his heart racing and thrumming beneath the surface. e tempo of it matches my own.
To be honest, I’m surprised at my reaction to his proposal. I’ve always considered myself to be a strong, independent woman, immune to the silly giddiness of the traditional gender stereotypes. And yet having Liam’s ring on my finger and knowing it represents his love and commitment . . . I can finally see what all the fuss is about.
I think it has a similar effect on him.
“I’ve never been turned on by jewelry before,” he says as he pulls back and caresses the ring. “But right now, I’m about as hard as this diamond.”
“If I were to buy you a ring,” I say, “would you wear it?”
“So everyone knows I belong to you?” I don’t even get to answer before he whispers, “Hell, yes.”
Then it’s his turn to kiss me with everything he has, and I don’t even mind that I’m going to have to redo my makeup before we leave. Kissing Liam is worth it.
For too many years I fought against what I felt for him instead of fighting for it, but now I know better.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past few years, it’s this: You can give up on a lot of things in life and still be happy. You can decide that jogging is the work of the devil, or that the super-popular book everyone loves just isn’t for you. Or you can let your gym membership keep ticking over every month without ever stepping foot inside the door. But the one thing you’re absolutely not allowed to give up on is true love. When you find it, you should grab it with both hands and never let it go, because although it might not always be easy or convenient, it’s worth it. I can tell you that much for sure.
There was a time when I thought I’d missed my chance at true love, and I regretted it every single day. But now, here it is, wrapped around me in the form of the most remarkable, loving, talented man I’ll ever know, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
Do I believe we were brought together by fate? Maybe. If anyone could make me believe in fate, it would be Liam. But I also think Liam’s right in thinking that sometimes fate is what we make it. You get the love you fight for. The one you think you deserve.
Now I know I deserve Liam Quinn, and he deserves me.
Our fate is to keep reminding each other of that, no matter what craziness life throws at us.
Always.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I need to thank a million people who helped shape Wicked Heart. (Well, okay, maybe “a million” is overstating it, but there are lots.)
Firstly, to my amazing editor at SMP, Rose Hilliard, who pushed for Elissa and Liam’s story and spanked me until I got it right; thank you for your amazing brain.
To my wonderful and pretty agent, Christina Hogrebe; I still get giddy when you tell me you enjoy my words. Don’t see that changing anytime soon.
To my beautiful bestie, Andrea, who is my rock and my cheerleader: Thank you for making me feel good about my writing even when I’m pretty sure it sucks giant yak balls. Your positivity and love is one of the greatest joys of my life.
To my darling Caryn, who pushed me from the start to write all the words and write them well. You’ve always had faith in me, even when I abused punctuation and continued my ongoing feud with the question mark. (That’s never changing, by the way. Question Mark knows what he did. I will never forgive him.)
To my A-list pre-readers, Natasha and Kristine—girls, you rock my world. Just when I was on the cusp of chewing off all my fingernails and getting super-drunk, you talked me off the ledge. Your incredible words of support and encouragement saved my sanity. One day, I will write fanfiction about a haunted vagina just for you. And maybe some dino-porn.
Enormous thanks to my spectacular husband, Jason, who puts up with my being distant and quiet while characters take over my brain. Who supports me when I lock myself away to rewrite scenes 1,827,381,621 times until they feel right. Who sees me writing in my pajamas at 3 P.M. with uncombed hair and a face lined with too little sleep and still tells me I’m beautiful. You’re my hero, honey. Always and forever.