Mine (A Real Man, 13) ( A Real Man)
Page 5
And when she rounded the corner and saw me sitting on the couch, I saw her focus go down to the box I held. She seemed frozen in place, her dance bag over her shoulder, her hair in a messy bun. She was a little sweaty from work, but God, she looked so good. She looked so damn beautiful.
“Hey.” She took a step closer and dropped her bag to the floor by her feet. “Cole? What’s going on?” I could see she was nervous, could see the way her pulse beat frantically below her ear.
I stood and walked toward her, not about to make this drag on. I'd had this ring for the last six months, wanting to ask her for that long, wanting to hear her say yes. But I’d wanted her to get established in her career, to be happy, and feel safe with me. I knew she was happy, because I strived to make that possible. But that didn't mean she wanted to get married.
Before I lost my nerve—because this was the scariest fucking thing I'd ever done in my life—I dropped to one knee, lifted my hand, and popped open the top of the ring box.
“Jana Helena Banks. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than I want you.” I took the ring out, set the box down, and held her hand in mine. “Having you in my life has been my greatest accomplishment. You already make me the happiest man alive, but having you as my wife would be incredible.” I slipped the ring on her finger, not sure if I was even doing this right but not about to stop. “Will you marry me?”
She covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes watering. I didn't know if those were good or bad tears, but I stayed on my knee, looking up at her, letting her take her time.
“Yes,” she finally said.
I stood and pulled her into my arms. “There is nothing in this world more important to me than you.” I pulled back and cupped her face, knowing that without Jana I would be a shell of a man.
She cupped the side of my face, her smile sincere, genuine. “I love you too.”
This woman loved me, and fucking hell if that didn’t make me the luckiest man in the world.
The End
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Coming June 2017
Alpha (A Real Man, 14)
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Excerpt: Kilt Me (A Real Man, 12)
Molly
It was a hot May day, hotter than I ever remembered it being before. My hair was sticking to the back of my neck, and I grabbed a hair tie and lifted the long, heavy locks off my nape. After tying it in a messy bun, I glanced around the room. Everyone seemed miserable.
I was tempted to just leave, to skip this class and head back to my apartment to take a cold shower, but before I could do anything, the door opened. I expected to see Mrs. Lane walk in, her big belly rounded, her expression annoyed. She was due next month, but she looked miserable every time I saw her.
But it wasn’t Mrs. Lane who stepped through the door.
The air seemed to get hotter, thicker, and the room grew silent as everyone stared at the man who was like no one I had ever seen before. And I didn’t mean that in the literal sense.
“Good morning, class. I’m Alastair McGowan, your substitute professor as Mrs. Lane is no’ able tae be here.”
He had this thick Scottish brogue going on, but then again he was wearing a kilt. God, and does he look good wearing it.
He set his briefcase on the desk, turned to face us, and my breath stalled. The substitute professor was over six feet tall, heavily muscled, and had this commanding persona that surrounded him.
I shifted on the seat, my dress sticking to my legs, my body heating, which had nothing to do with the fact it was hot as hell in this room. I’d been attracted to plenty of guys, but this was unlike anything I’d ever felt before.
It was a desire that was intense, consuming, and had my brain in this fog.
And the one dirty thought that kept slamming into my head, over and over again, was … what’s under that kilt?
Alastair
I saw her sitting in the back, her red hair this fiery mass atop her head. The room was stuffy, hot, and even from the distance I could see the light droplets of perspiration dotting her temples.
If I dinna have self-control, I would have gotten hard right then. Just thinking about leaning in and licking away those droplets, and tasting the saltiness of her, could have made me so fooking hard.
But control was key.
She shifted on the seat, her dress riding up her thighs. Good God.
I moved behind the desk and took a seat. The battle with keeping my self-control was a losing one, and I felt myself start tae get hard. Fook. I cleared my throat and looked at the wee lass that would be mine.
Fook the rules. I dinna care if she was a student and I was her professor for the foreseeable future. I dinna kno’ what had gotten intae me, but hell, I was no’ about tae let this feeling go.
I kne’ what I wanted … her.
She’ll be mine.
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