Page 117 of Resisting Isaac

Perusing them, one glaring fact becomes clear to me.

In every single list since the night we met, I’m at least one of her three real things. If not directly, at least the consequences of my actions.

The bathroom door creaks behind me, and I step awayfrom the notebook so fast the sack of snacks nearly slips from under my arm. I set it on the nearby end table.

Elena’s in nothing but a towel—hair damp, cheeks pink, water beading along the curve of her shoulder.

She comes to stand in front of me with a soft, “Hey.”

I sink to one knee before I even realize I’ve moved.

“What are you doing?” she asks, startled.

“Worshipping you,” I murmur, letting my hands push her towel open at the overlap. “Checking on my little peanut.”

There’s not even really a bump, or the slightest protrusion of soft skin above her hips. I kiss her belly softly anyway. Gooseflesh spreads across her skin and I fucking love that I have that effect on her.

“Your peanut is fine,” she says with a breathy smile. “Promise.”

“I know. But I needed a reason to get on my knees.”

I retrieve the ring box from my pocket and offer it to her. “I got you this. It’s real, I promise.”

She glances down, one arm tightening the towel across her chest. “Isaac…”

“Take it, spitfire. It’s yours for as long as you want it.”

Just like my heart, body, and fucking soul.

She slips it on her finger, and I hear it. The soft little sigh that isn’t from being tired. Her eyes are filling with tears, or maybe just mine are.

“It’s beautiful. Isaac you shouldn’t have spent so much on a fake?—”

I stop her with my mouth against her soft, bare pussy. Kiss it gently. Then firmer.

“Tell me to stop if you want me to stop,” I tell her, pushing the towel further out of my way for better access.Her hands rake through my hair, and I take that as a signal to keep going.

When my tongue slides through the seam of her, she moans.

Fuck yes.

My girl is going to marry me and I’m going to spend every damn day of six months reminding her why we should stay married.

“Can I sit?” Her voice is small, needy. “I’m a little tired from the hot shower.” I stand, then lift her in my arms and put her gently on the couch behind us.

I press my palm gently to the lower part of her belly.

She exhales shakily, a hand falling to cover mine.

Her eyes land on something beside me. The table where I left her notebook open.

“Did you look at my notebook?”

“You mean you’reI heart Isaac Logan forever fan book?”

She shakes her head but she’s smiling. “You weren’t supposed to see?—”

“Sweetheart,” I interrupt, leaning down and placing a kiss just above her mound. “There’s no use pretending with me. Save it for work.”