The Billionaire Gets His Way (17 page)

He said nothing for a moment, and, for a moment, she feared maybe she
had
said too much too soon, or that some small part of him did still care about what people said. Then he lifted a hand to her hair and tucked an errant strand behind one ear very affectionately. “There's another way to deal with the gossip, you know. In addition to my moving in here with you,” he hastened to add.

The thing that had taken flight in Violet absolutely soared at that. “Is there?”

He nodded. “You could marry me and make an honest man out of me. That would show them.”

Heat splashed into her belly at that, and the soaring thing entered the stratosphere. “You…you want to get married?” she asked softly, a little incredulously.

He grinned. “Well, since you're proposing anyway, sure.”

Gee, so much for doing nothing today. Not to mention doing everything exactly the same way for her new book's on-sale week as she'd done for the last one. Getting engaged kinda threw a wrench into all that.

But as thrown wrenches went, that was a really good one.

Her silence must have given Gavin the impression that she wasn't as keen on the idea as he was, because his smile fell, and uncertainty clouded his eyes. “I mean…” he stammered, “I thought… That is…” He swallowed visibly. “We don't have to talk about this right now if you don't want to.”

“No, I want to,” she hurried to assure him. “I just…I'm not sure what to say.”

“You could start by saying you want to get married. To me.”

“I want to get married. To you.”

His entire body seemed to relax at that. “Good. Then I don't think there's a lot more we have to talk about. We're getting married. I'm going to move in with you here.” His smile returned, full force. “And they lived happily ever after. The end.”

“You can't end it there!” she exclaimed. “That's too abrupt. The reader would be left feeling cheated.”

“Well, what else does a reader need besides a happy ending?”

What indeed? Violet thought. “Well, when you put it that way…”

Gavin cupped his hand lightly over her shoulder, then brushed his fingers slowly down the length of her arm, over her wrist, her hand, her fingertips, under the sheet to settle gently on the curve of her hip. “I suppose we could give the reader one more love scene,” he said softly.

She lifted a hand to brush back an especially unruly lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead. “I told you. I don't want to share you anymore. Not even with my readers.”

His hand fell from her hip to her belly, then traveled up her torso to cover one breast. “Then maybe we should give them one of those behind closed doors things.”

Violet skimmed her fingertips over his cheek, along the
strong line of his jaw, over his finely sculpted lips. Along his throat, over his collarbone, tracing the very, very enticing line of hair that went from his chest to the narrow of his waist. “Behind closed doors would be good,” she said. “Even if the door isn't exactly closed.”

He lowered his head to hers. “I was speaking figuratively.”

“I wish you'd stop speaking altogether.”

“Actions speak louder than words, is that it?”

“Show, don't tell.”

Because Gavin had said everything that needed to be said. Now all that was left was for them to get on with it. With their actions. With their life. With their love.

Oh, wait, she realized belatedly. There was one thing left to say.

“I love you, Gavin. With all my heart.”

He grinned at that. “I love you, Violet. With all my soul.”

And really, when all was said—and done, though they'd be doing some, ah, doing here soon, too—that was all either of them needed for a happily-ever-after-the-end.