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This time she follows and sits in my lap. Placing the leather strap around her neck, I rest the Spanish guitar over her belly and slowly begin to strum.

“Is that ‘Pappa Don’t Preach’ by Madonna?”

I chuckle softly and kiss her neck. “Yeah. Probably not my best choice, all things considered.”

My dick starts to harden.

Not fucking now.

“Are they calming?” I say, strumming the guitar.

She nods. “Not one kick since you started playing. They like music like their Daddy.”

Strumming out “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” my girlfriend melts into me, and I can feel the way her breathing slows and relaxes.

A couple of minutes later, she takes a deep breath. “Did you teach yourself to play?”

I nod over her shoulder. “Kind of. My dad is Welsh, and music and singing are a big deal over there. He taught me the basics, and I carried on. It helps me relax before and after games.”

“You’re Welsh?” She sounds surprised.Again.

“Half Welsh.”

“Jones is a common surname here, so I just assumed you were fully Canadian.”

“Nah. Mom and Dad met at Cardiff University. Mom was an international student.”

“Can you do a British accent?” she croons.

I clear my throat and give it my best shot. “Good evening, your Royal Highness.”

She barks out a laugh. “Finally found something you aren’t good at.”

“Oh, game on. Just watch me morph into Daniel Craig.”

“Oooo, now that would be something.”

“Dating me for all of ten hours, and you’re already fanaticizing about another man.”

“Well, you know, gotta keep my options open.”

Pulling the strap from her neck, I lift her off me and lay her down on my soft white duvet, hovering above her. “Tell me I’m the one.”

Her eyes flare.

“Go on, Princess. Say out loud what I know you’ve been thinking. That you and I are forever.”

She smiles, and I know she loves how I test her boundaries like this.

Twining her dark blue fingernails through my hair, she nods slowly.

“Say it, baby, please.”

A few beats pass in the silence of my bedroom before she whispers. “Forever.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

KATE