“When I look at it,” he said quietly, “it reminds me of how I feel about you.”
She saw that in the ring, too. The unusual design conveyed passionate chaos, and the fact that he registered that quality in the setting cemented her belief that he was the perfect man for her.
Climbing over him, Robin straddled his h*ps and extended her hand. “Put it on me.”
The feel of the cool band sliding over her knuckle was so sublime it caused goose bumps to sweep across her skin. She wanted this so badly, wanted him. Her rough-edged brewmaster with his gentle hands and insatiable hunger for her body. The man who listened to her talk about gem clarity and design theory and who patiently explained the difference between lager and ale.
“Yes,” she answered him, placing her hand on his chest next to her name over his heart.
Paul framed her ribcage with his hands, his thumbs stroking the lower curve of her br**sts. “And what do you need from me?”
“I needed this.” She gestured between them. “A commitment from you. I’ll also need a room that’s mine alone, a workshop with lots of light and space.”
“Done.”
“And I need you to promise not to change your style for me.”
His brows rose. “I have a style?”
“I love you just the way you are. Don’t cut your hair or—”
He rolled abruptly, taking the top. “Say that again.”
Laughing, Robin looked up into his impossibly handsome face. “Don’t cut your hair?”
He snorted. “The part before that.”
“Don’t change your style?”
Bending his head, Paul caught her nipple between his teeth. She made a soft noise at the unexpected bite, then arched her back when his tongue soothed the slight sting. When his cheeks hollowed on a drawing pull, she moaned his name and gave him what he wanted.
“I love you, Paul. You’re everything to me.”
When he lifted his head, the fiercely tender look on his face was one she’d remember for the rest of her life.
Or she could just make him show it to her again. She had a lifetime to work on it.