Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147545 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 590(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
He smirks. “It would be. I’ll tell my sperm to keep his shit together when he gets in there.”
I snort. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” Glancing back, I ask, “How’s that number for you?”
“Two works for me,” he says. “I want to wait a while, though. I want us to have a lot of time together before we expand our family.”
“How long is a while?”
“At least six or seven years.”
I nod. “I can work with that. I definitely want kids, but we have other stuff to do first. I’m not in any rush.”
“Marriage, though,” he says, nuzzling close so he can kiss my neck. “Marriage needs to happen sooner.”
I grin, tilting my neck to give him better access. “You’re always talking about marrying me. I’m gonna take you seriously one of these days.”
“I’d marry you tomorrow.”
“I’d need a little more time. To pick out a dress,” I add when he pulls back, disgruntled. “And plan the wedding. We’re doing Gatsby, after all. I have a lot of planning to do to bring that vision to life.”
“You’d better get started,” he advises, his tone teasing, but I’m not sure he’s joking.
“Do you think your dad will approve?” I ask seriously.
Since our first olive branch dinner at Tor’s house, I’ve received the unimaginably cool Gatsby first edition and other lavish gifts from his family, but despite their apparent acceptance of our relationship, I still get the feeling his dad has reservations about me. If Tor dumped me tomorrow, I think Carson would be relieved.
I don’t think it’s entirely my fault, though. I don’t believe he knows what happened at the lake house—I don’t think he would put up with me if he did—but I do think he finds it easier to blame me than Tor for some of the discord and blatant aggression he feels for his son after all the damage he has caused. Carson Walters had his entire kingdom beneath his thumb, and Tor moved through the shadows, wrecking all of it—with my help, of course.
I will never know the extent of it because I don’t want to rip open that wound, and frankly, I don’t need to, but I’m guessing Carson Walters knows every dirty detail. I’m guessing he even helped engineer it, thinking he was in charge of it the way he’s always been in charge of everything, not realizing Tor was waiting in the shadows to snip all the strings and attach them to his own control bar. I can’t imagine how that must make a man like Carson Walters feel, knowing his own son that he sacrificed so much for outplayed him and handed his legacy over to the very girl they sought to destroy.
To him, it was betrayal.
To me, it was loyalty.
Carson Walters may be Myra’s king, but Tor is mine, and I’ll spend every night of my life paying fealty to him, just like he spends every moment paying fealty to me.
Since he took up the sword for me, Tor has never put it down, so of course when he answers me, it’s, “Yes. But it wouldn’t matter if he didn’t. I’d marry you anyway.”
“He’s gonna make me sign a hell of a prenup,” I joke.
Tor shakes his head. “We’re not getting a prenup.”
I smile, but push back a little. “That’s crazy. You have to get a prenup. You guys practically own a whole town—and that’s just what I know you own. I suspect there’s more.”
“There is, but what’s mine is yours.” He kisses my knuckles. “When we get married, it’s for life. I’m never letting you leave.”
I sigh. “Always so sweet and/or threatening.”
He smirks. “None of our stuff is as valuable as you, anyway.”
“Aw.” I turn away from the movie to wrap my arms around his neck, pulling closer so I can steal a kiss. “Sweet. We’re sticking with sweet.”
“Only for you,” he murmurs against my mouth, making me sigh again.
Then he kisses me, his hand sliding along my jawline to catch the side of my face in his firm, loving grip. After all this time, his kisses still give me butterflies.
When he breaks the kiss and pulls back, he holds my gaze, and I hope he sees all the love I have for him shining in mine.
“Can you get me a Sour Patch Kid?” he asks.
I blink, totally unprepared for such a casual request.
Then I chuckle, feeling silly for my own sappy thoughts when he clearly wasn’t having any. We’re not usually out of sync like that, but I shake it off and nod. “Sure.”
Tor eases back, and I reach over to grab the candy off the snack tray, but frown because the box is really light.
“Uh, I think whichever friends you had help you with the setup may have eaten your candy. It doesn’t feel like there’s much left.”
“Bastards,” he says.
I nod, opening the tab and tilting the box. My breath catches because it’s not a piece of candy that tumbles into my hand.