Page 40

One Year Later

Layla

“ Baila conmigo hermosa .”

I look up from the book I’m reading to see Teagan leaning against the door frame of our bedroom, arms folded across his chest, and a lopsided grin on his face. His beard is a little longer these days, and I don’t hate it. Makes him look more rugged—like a lumberjack or mountain man.

He’s been taking an online Spanish class for the last six months, and has been doing surprisingly well. His accent makes some of the words and phrases sound off at times, but he doesn’t let that stop him. Lately, he insists that if he addresses me in Spanish, then I need to respond in kind to help with his conversation skills. If I answer in English, he pouts.

Just now he said, “Dance with me, beautiful” and my stomach did a little flip, like it always does when he gives me a Spanish nickname. I love it.

In Spanish, I reply, “I don’t hear any music.”

I wait patiently while he figures it out. He struggles with one of the words, but holds up a hand when I try to give him a hint.

“No, give me a minute. I’ll figure it out,” he says in English.

His dedication is endearing and I love him all the more for it.

When he finally figures it out his face lights up with excitement and he responds with, “We don’t need music.”

Salsa dancing has become something he really excels at, much to my mother’s delight. And fine…mine too. It’s fun when he dances with Mami, but when he dances with me? It’s foreplay.

Eventually, he persuades me to join him in the living room where all of the furniture is pushed against a wall, leaving a cleared space. The lights are low, with lit candles placed carefully around the room. And even though he just said we don’t need music, there’s some playing softly from his phone.

I give him a curious look. “No Salsa tonight?”

“Nah,” he says, holding out his hand for me to take. “I just want to slow dance with you, Lovely.”

Swoon.

I place my hand in his, letting him pull me into his arms. With as many times as we’ve danced, my body knows exactly where it fits against his. The song changes to “Speechless” by Dan+Shay, and Teagan begins to sing softly against my hair.

“I love this song,” I mutter, laying my head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my ear.

“Aye. I heard it for the first time shortly after we met, and immediately knew it was about you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, shifting slightly.

His heart starts beating faster and I look up at him in concern. “Are you okay?”

“‘Course, love,” he answers, kissing the tip of my nose. “Why?”

“Your heart just started racing out of nowhere. Do you need to sit down?” I’m starting to panic, thinking that my boyfriend is on the verge of a heart attack.

“Easy, lass,” Teagan says soothingly, like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “I’m fine. Honest. I’m just feeling a little nervous, is all.”

“Nervous? Why are you nervous, baby?”

He lifts a hand in front of my face, and pinched between his thumb and index finger is a ring. A beautiful oval diamond solitaire sitting on a white gold band.

“Teagan,” I choke out, pulling away from his chest.

“Don’t freak out. Just listen, yeah?” He places his palm on the side of my neck.

I nod, because all words are stuck in my throat.

“I know marriage isn’t something you want to rush into, so I’m not going to pressure you in any way. However, I want you wearing my ring, even if it’s just to show the world that you’re mine and mine alone. I want the other blokes out there to glance down at your hand, see this rock sitting there, and know you already have someone. I want them to know I’m warming your bed, guarding your heart, and loving you unconditionally. If someday you decide you want to get married, then I’ll propose properly. But for tonight, I’m only asking if you’ll wear this ring as a symbol of how much I love you, Layla.”

I’m at a complete loss for words. My heart is telling me to scream from the rooftops that I’ll marry him right now, but that’s not what he’s asking of me. He’s communicating his desires while also respecting mine. He wants the world to know that he’s a permanent fixture in my life and that I choose him.

And I do. I will choose him every time.

“Yes, Teagan. I’ll wear your ring. ”

Teagan

One Year Later

It’s late when I walk in the door. I’ve been out of town for work all week, and I’m ready to get my hands on my lass. The way I miss her when I have to travel is nearly debilitating. Especially at the end of the day, when I’m stuck in a hotel room alone.

I made an exception to the “all of your pleasure will be at my hands” rule. Now, when I’m away, Layla can use a toy or her hands, but only if we’re on the phone together or FaceTiming. She can’t go any longer without me than I can go without her. Even after the three years we’ve been together, our chemistry is still just as strong.

Quietly, I set my keys down on the table by the door, freezing when I see a folded piece of paper. My name is scrawled in familiar handwriting…and Layla’s ring next to it. My heart sinks, and I think I might vomit.

With shaky hands, I unfold the paper.

Teagan,

I’m giving the ring back. You can give it back to me when you ask properly.

I’m ready when you are.

xoxo,

Layla

A bark of laughter bursts from my mouth as the panic leaves my body. Then, I feel like a fecking eejit for even thinking Layla would leave me. We’re solid. The next time I laugh, it’s in victory because I can finally do what I’ve been waiting years for. I stalk to our bedroom, opening the door to find her asleep, the lamp on the bedside table still on, and a book face up next to her. She’s curled on her side, facing the lamp. Removing my shirt and pants, I crawl in next to her, reaching over to turn the light off before tucking my arm under her. She stirs when I kiss her on the top of her head.

“Teagan?” Layla’s voice is thick with sleep .

“Shhh, mo chroi. Go back to sleep. I’m home.”

She turns over, eyes barely open, and says, “I missed you, baby.”

“Missed you more.”

Her answer is to kiss me. I should let her go back to sleep, but I’ve missed these lips. The feel of her skin under my palms. I don’t have to deny myself any longer, and I deepen the kiss, letting my hands travel over her arse. Her responding whimper, and the way she pushes her hips forward, is enough for me to forget letting her sleep.

When we’ve both found our release, I curl around her, my chest pressing into her back.

“How was your trip?” Layla whispers into the dark.

“Grand. Boring at times, and the nights were brutal, but I made some new contacts.”

“That’s good,” she says around a yawn, wiggling her arse in an attempt to snuggle as close as possible, effectively putting my cock on high alert again.

“Layla?”

“Hmm?”

I kiss her shoulder and inhale her scent.

“Marry me, Lovely.”

The End.