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She reaches for me but I stop her, grabbing her left wrist. I take the ring from the box and guide it to her left ring finger. It slides on; a perfect fit.

“You’re going to marry me,” I say, giving her a kiss.

“I never said yes,” she grins against my lips. “You can’t justtellme that I’m going to marry you.”

“You’ll have to stop me, then,” I murmur, kissing her again and leaning her back on the bed. “But I don’t think you’re going to. I think you want to marry me. I think you want to be Mrs. Andrea Stone, my wife, my possession.”

“Maybe,” she sighs as I kiss her neck and then downwards, sliding the dress off her shoulders and pulling it down her torso. I thumb her nipples through the thin lace bra beneath, making her breath hitch.

“Mine,” I say against her skin.

“Yours,” she agrees.