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CHAPTER 11

Did I mention that he’d just fucked my brains out? Because that’s my excuse for staring down at him with those last words ringing in my ears, not comprehending the actual meaning of them.

He chuckles and lets go of my neck. “You’re tired, sweetheart. Let’s sleep for a bit, shall we?”

“Wait, what? Did you just…propose?”

He looks a little sheepish. “Well, I’d meant to do that differently. Down on one knee and all. But…”

“You know your knees crack every time you kneel down.”

He flicks his fingers at my earlobe. “Don’t be a brat or I’ll take it back.”

“No, you won’t.” I push myself upright with a hand on his chest. “Were you going to do it with a ring? Do I get a ring?”

His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. “Of course, sweetheart. It’s over there.” He gestures in the direction of the duffel bag he brought in from the car.

All the languor and sated sleepiness the scene produced in me snap. I hop out of bed, although I suppose I don’t scamper to the bag as much as I walk gingerly to it. I riffle through it and oh boy, the things he’s got in here. Things he hasn’t yet used on me. Things I can’t wait for him to use on me.

The bedclothes rustle as Logan sits halfway up, propping himself on an elbow. “In the small interior pocket, baby.”

I pat around inside the duffel bag until I find a small, hard shape and a closed zipper. I tug the zipper open and dig out a black velvet ring box. I’m about to open it when I look up at Logan, still propped on one elbow on the bed, looking at me with an indulgent smile.

I close my fingers around the box without opening it and return to the bed. I crawl onto it, arrange myself on my knees next to him, hand the box over, and fold my hands together in my lap.

We don’t normally engage in the classic dominance and submissive postures. I think Logan thinks they’re more performative than anything else and I don’t need to be on my knees to submit to him.

But this feels special, and it’s true that Logan’s knees tend to crack when he bends them, so if anyone should be on his knees here, it’s me.

I lower my eyes to my hands and only see Logan moving out of the corner of them. He tosses the covers aside and sits up all the way, crossing his legs tailor-style in front of me. I can see a bare foot on one side of my knees and his hairy thigh and knee on the other side.

“Silas,” he starts. I lift my eyes to his. “You’re young enough to be my son,” which is something we don’t talk a whole lot about—that I was, in fact, dating his son when I met him. Until his son cheated on me and I set my sights on seducing his dad in revenge.

Which, I suppose, makes the way he’s proposing to me all the more fitting. After all, our relationship started with a weekend of rough sex that was supposed to be temporary, so Logan proposing to me after a scene of consensual abduction and really rough sex seems…totally like us.

“I probably shouldn’t ask you to tie yourself to a man who’ll be in his dotage while you’re in your prime. But I can’t imagine the rest of my life without you in it. Will you be my boy for good?”

He cracks open the ring box. I’ll look at it later—I’m sure it’s beautiful—but it’s irrelevant to my answer. I hold his eyes as I say, “I already am, Daddy.”

His face lights up and I realize that he was actually nervous that I’d say no. As if that could ever happen. I don’t give a shit about his age—despite the times I tease him about his knees—or mine, or how many years there are between us.

I love him. I knocked on his door that December night hoping he’d let me be with him for a few hours, whether he agreed to fuck me or just took care of me until Lance’s betrayal hurt less.

I got so much more than I’d hoped for, and there’s so much more ahead of us. He picks up my left hand, disengages the ring from its velvet padding, and slips it onto my finger. He cups my face in his hands and kisses me softly on the lips.

Whereupon, I lunge from my kneeling position, topple him over onto his back, and sprawl over his body. I kiss him and kiss him and he kisses me back and it’s messy and greedy and needy and all the things that we are to each other.

“Yes, Daddy,” I whisper in between kisses. “Yes, Sir. Yes, Logan. Yes to every part of you, even your creaky knees.”

He smacks my ass and hey, it doesn’t even sting this time, maybe because of the angle or maybe because the lotion he used has magical healing properties. Whatever, he’ll hurt me again anytime I want him to.

Or anytime he wants to, whether I think I want it or not.

I can’t wait.