Delayed by Nathan Kingsly (the false prince TXT) 📗

should know what I mean. She’s no more a thing to me than I am to myself. However, just as I own my body and the soul inside it, responsible for it, Emma is also mine in the same sense. There's nothing I wouldn't do to keep her.”

“Are you doing it tonight then?”

“Doing what?”

I look over, and she gives me a knowing smile. Don’t know how she’s figured it out, but no reason to hide it from her.

“Everybody’s here. Even Mavis and her husband drove up from Florida. If I can make it to one knee, tonight will be the night.”

“Have you asked her mom for permission?”

“You raised me well enough to know the answer to that.” Emma's mom, Sharell, is nice but a force of nature. I suppose with four boys and a girl, she has to be.

“Good, not that you need it, but you’ve got my blessing too. She’s what you need, and she’s what you want. I couldn’t be happier with your choice, and anyone that can break down your sister to like them that fast is a saint.”

I laugh so hard some of the people in the yard look over with curious eyes. I wave them off, and most of them return to what they are doing, but Emma’s gaze never wavers from mine.

There’s no such thing as being completely ready. You’re never going to feel like you’ve got everything figured out. If you get to a moment where you’re more excited than afraid, that’s when you give in. That’s when you give it your all, play your hand, and say, ‘hell to playing it safe.’

As if my will demands it, I get up from my seat and walk toward her. Grabbing my side, I hit the ground with a knee, to catch my breath.  Emma is there, her fingers urgent on my face so she can look into my eyes. She’s so damn beautiful, and soon I’ll make her mine. My heart is beating its way out of its cage.

"Oh my God, Liam, are you all right? You're sweating."

Straightening my back, I grip both of her hands. Her brows scrunch together, making her nose wrinkle.

“Emma, we’ve been on a wild ride together, with a hell of a lot of turbulence, and we did it without floatation devices or parachutes. We free-fell together, then into one another, and in that fall, I realized I want to do it every day with you. But…” Her eyes are filling with tears, and she's shaking her head. “This time, as we move forward, I’ll be your parachute to slow the impact, and when we hit that ocean, I’ll keep you afloat. I’m sure it won’t be a solitary trip down, but one thing is for sure, I will never let you go. Emma Christine Baker, will you be mine, take my name, wear my ring, and call yourself my wife?”

It’s silent for too many heartbeats, though admittedly, mine was beating pretty fast, the tears finally spilling over onto her cheeks.

“So, you’re not hurt?” she asks.

There is soft laughter around us, and she looks around, her cheeks flushing a pleasant rose color. She takes one of her hands so she can wipe at her tears, her bottom lip between her teeth, telling everyone that knows her that she's nervous.

“No, just my manly way of getting on my knee,” I smirk at her as she looks down at me again.

She hits me on the shoulder. “You’re such an ass! I thought you were hurt.”

“Are we really going to focus on me faking to get you to come over and getting the attention of the yard in one fell swoop?”

She looks around again, noticing all the eyes. When I squeeze her hand, she looks back, and a smile finally tickles the side of her mouth. When her head starts to nod, I am up on my feet, and she is returning my hug.

“Say it,” I whisper. “The nod is nice, but I need your sweet mouth to form the words.”

“Yes.” She pulls back and holds my face in her hands. “I wouldn’t board this life or take that plunge into that ocean with anyone other than you.” She says the second part loud enough for everyone to hear. Our backyard erupts in applause and cat-calls as I kiss my future wife breathless.

After several more hours, I'm finally alone with her again.

Her fingertips are soft against my lightly whiskered face before they move to trace the shape of my bottom lip. Her eyes unfocused as I open my lips, and she never loses focus as it disappears inside my mouth. My tongue suggestive of what all I have planned for her. Taking her wrist, I pull it out and nip the tip, and she looks up, grinning.

What she must see in my face makes her smile disappear. She licks her lips as her eyes dilate.

"Since you've said yes, I've wanted to show you how much it means to me that you've agreed to be mine."

"I've been yours. We'll just have rings and a piece of paper to parade around that it's legal."

"And I'm yours." Dropping her wrist, I turn my hand over, caressing her flushed cheek with the back of my fingers. Following the curve of her jaw, her neck elongating for me, a silent request to keep going. Flipping my hand over, I clasp the front of her neck, squeezing gently. She'd closed her eyes, but now they focus again on mine. Her hands cradle my triceps.

The way I want her is sharp and cutting. It rips through all my walls and slides past all defenses. There has never been protection for how precise her aim to my heart is. "I want to make love to you. I want to worship my fiancé and future wife."

Her gaze softens. I've never made love to her or anyone, and I can't think of a better time to try and start. "You won't hear me complain." Her smile is soft.

I chuckle. "Another