Chapter 8

8

DELIA

D ean once again has been tight-lipped all morning about where we're going. He made me pack a bag before we left, and we've been driving for over an hour now. No amount of Googling on my phone has given me an inkling of Dean's destination, so I'm stuck pouting in the passenger seat as we cruise through the countryside.

"Princess," Dean rumbles. "You know what I do with girls who pout."

My face grows hot. Even after Dean and I have done everything under the sun together at this point, I still feel shy about it all. He has a way of making me feel completely submissive and innocent, even as he's tying me to the bed and edging me until I'm practically in tears.

I've never had someone take care of me the way Dean does, and the realization makes me tear up a little bit.

"What? Princess, what is it?" he asks, concerned.

I wipe the tear that escapes off my cheek. "Nothing. I've just really enjoyed this time with you, Dean."

He looks over at me, a tender emotion flickering over his face. "Me too, princess. Me too."

More minutes pass, and I'm checking my fingernails when we pass a sign for a local winery with camping cabins, and suddenly it all makes sense.

"Is that where we're going?" I ask, smiling, getting excited at the prospect.

Dean glances over, his mouth pulling up to one side. "Maybe."

"You're so frustrating." I sigh. "And yeah, you can punish me for saying that."

His dark laugh rumbles through the car, and I press my legs together to relieve some of the pressure building in my pussy just from hearing that sound. It's very familiar…I hear it a lot when he's buried to the hilt in my body.

"You know," Dean says, his voice low and rumbly. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were falling in love with me."

"You're impossible," I mutter, not knowing how to respond. He's right, my heart whispers, You do love him. You have for weeks.

"Whatever you say, princess," he says, looking over at me and placing a large, calloused hand on my thigh. "All I know is that you're mine. All mine. And I'm going to take care of you this weekend in ways you can't even imagine."

A shiver runs down my spine, and I look over at him, in the mood to tease. "What if I don't want to be yours?"

He smiles, slow and wolfish. "I'll just have to change your mind."

"Promises, promises," I reply, turning my attention back out the window.

We pass another sign, and Dean squeezes my leg. "You'll see, princess. This weekend is going to change your life."

"This place is beautiful," I breathe, taking in the rolling green hills of the winery. There's just the slightest dusting of frost, but honestly, I don't think I'd mind being snowed in here.

Dean smiles. "Let's check out our cabin and then explore. You can try all the wine you want."

We get our bags and check-in, and then walk up a little hill to our cabin. It's a little two-story cottage, complete with a white picket fence.

"This is ours for the weekend?" I ask. "You really outdid yourself, Dean."

"Of course," he says, squeezing my shoulder. "Only the best for you."

I sigh and lean into his touch, letting the warm feeling wash over me. Dean always makes me feel like the most important person in the world.

We head inside and settle in. Then, Dean and I decide to walk around the winery and take a tour. We're the only people on the tour, which means we get a little extra attention from the guide.

"This is a gorgeous winery, isn't it?" she says, smiling at us. "Have you two been together long?"

Dean and I look at each other. "Long enough for me to know she's everything."

"Oh!" the guide gasps. "That's so sweet!"

Dean laughs, putting his arm around me. " I guess you could say it's a whirlwind romance."

We return to the cabin where dinner has been delivered for us, and to my surprise, hundreds of rose petals and dozens of candles cover the floors, table, and every other surface of the place. The guide leaves quietly, and Dean takes my hand, leading me over to the table.

He uncorks the bottle of sweet red wine and pours us both a glass. "Before we eat, princess, I need to ask you something."

"Yes?" I reply, my heart kicking into high gear. There's a feeling of fate in the air like the next few minutes are going to change everything…forever.

My instincts are proven right when Dean, all 6 feet plus of him, gets down on one knee and pulls a ring box from his pocket. I gasp, my hand going to my mouth, adrenaline pumping into my bloodstream and making me shake. Is this really happening?

"Delia Watson," he begins. "When you came into my life, you changed everything. You gave me a reason to start living, not just surviving. For that, I'll be forever grateful. Please make me the happiest man in the world and agree to become my wife. Will you marry me?"

Tears leak down my face as he holds the ring box open—a gorgeous princess-cut diamond shining on the black velvet.

"Yes," I cry, falling to his level and throwing my arms around him. "I'll marry you."

He slides the ring on my finger and pulls me into his lap. His kiss is searing and desperate.

"Delia," he groans. "I love you. I love you so fucking much."

His confession rocks me.

"You've changed my life too," I tell him, tears falling freely from my eyes now. "And I love you too. God, I love you so much, Dean!"

We don't make it back to the dinner table, falling into bed instead and telling each other over and over again with our bodies and our words how much we love each other. When we finally manage to eat, it's in bed, wrapped in sheets, all the candles burning down to wicks and puddles of wax around us.

The food is cold and the wine is warm. It's messy, and because it's with Dean Dixon, it's perfect.