Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 53764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53764 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
"What, then?" she asked, more quietly now.
"I'm referring to every fucking guy out there who wants to get his hands on you!"
"Nobody's getting their hands on me."
"But they want to. They want to get in your goddamn pants!" He couldn't contain the jealousy that burned through his veins.
"So? You don't think every single woman out there wants to get her claws into you? Christ, Marco. Have you looked in a damned mirror? You're hotter than hot, richer than sin--"
He interrupted her. "I don't want anyone else. All those other women? They can get fucked. All I want is you." His tone was hard and unequivocal.
Marco's impassioned admission wasn't exactly a declaration of love, but she'd already known he cared for her, cared deeply. But she didn't know where he was going with this. She believed him earlier when he told her he hadn't been paying attention to Nora Kennedy. She could see it now. What had sent her running to the powder room earlier had been a misunderstanding on her part. Now that she was thinking clearly, she knew his sole focus would have been on her. If there were other men in the room, especially Mathew Kennedy, Marco watched her like a hawk.
She didn't mind. It was his way. Why he thought every man was interested in her was another question entirely. Marco wanted her, so he figured every man must as well. It was just one of his jealous quirks. She'd learned to live with it; it didn't really bother her. In fact, since he'd never uttered the love word, his jealousy gave her some form of comfort.
She answered him now. "And all I want is you, so please stop worrying over this."
"I can't." His gaze was piercing.
She met his stare. "What do you want, then?"
He spread his legs wide and leaned down with his elbows on his upper thighs, his hands in a steeple. "Hear me out before you say anything." He took a deep breath. "I think if we got married I might not be as stressed about this shit."
Her eyes widened and her heart began racing so fast she could feel her blood ping-ponging from her heart through her veins and back again. Pleasure and a sharp sense of relief spread through her as she tried to get her throat to form words. But had she just gotten a marriage proposal uttered in the same sentence with the word shit? It didn't matter. She'd take it. Her mind was whirling around her, a loud buzzing going on in her brain.
She didn't answer quickly enough and he began arguing his case. "If you'd only gotten pregnant." He ran his hand through his hair leaving it a ruffled mess. "I prayed like hell you'd be pregnant--you know--that time we screwed up in my office. If you'd conceived all this shit would be over by now. You couldn't have turned me down, we'd have a baby and I wouldn't be constantly scared shitless you were going to waltz off with some other guy."
Natalie's heart completely stopped. What kind of emotion had he been hiding from her all this time? It was as if a switch had been flipped, and suddenly, she didn't care about protecting her heart from him. She just wanted to know. "Marco--"
He ground his teeth together and she could tell he was preparing himself for the worst. "Yeah?"
Natalie closed her eyes, took a deep breath and asked the question that she prayed would change her life in a glorious way. "Do you love me?"
He let out a puff of air and ran his hand through his hair again with fingers that shook. "Jesus Christ, Natalie. Heart, body, and soul. More than life itself."
She stared at him sitting there, only an inch away from panic, and decided to put him out of his misery. She got up from her seat and fell to her knees in front of him. She lifted her eyes to his and gripped her hands over his. "I've loved you forever, Marco--and I don't want you to be stressed." She smiled softly. "So yes, I'll marry you."
His sigh of relief was palpable but she didn't have time to dwell on it, because he began kissing her as if he'd never let her go.
Epilogue
Seven years later
"I think it's time." Marco tried to make his voice sound stern and determined, because by God and all that was Holy, he was going to get his way this time.
Natalie shifted the baby from one hip to the next and stirred the sauce on the stove. "Do you now?"
He paced back and forth. "You need help, Natalie. Three kids and one on the way--"
"What do I need help with?" She put the spoon down and picked up a pink stuffed whale and handed it back to her four-year-old who played with plastic utensils at her feet. Their six-year-old daughter played quietly on the kitchen computer.