I slam the book closed and say, “Done!” triumphantly. We are at our home, the one he moved me into after he gave me an F on my paper. We both are in the living room where he now grades papers. I’ve been curled up on the sofa, reading, just keeping him company while he pushes through at least a hundred assignments.

“How did you like the book?” He sets the paper he’s recently graded on the table next to him and runs his fingers through my hair.

“It was amazing. I would have finished it weeks ago if my English professor wasn’t so damn demanding.”

“Is that right?” His fingers trace down the edge of my jaw and brush against my lips.

I dart my tongue out to lick his finger. “Yes, he actually expects me to write a paper every few weeks and pass.”

His fingers fall to my chest where they skirt the edge of my shirt. “Imagine that. He wants you to be successful. I hate him already.”

He shifts his body so I’m no longer lying in his lap, but he’s lying by my side.

“I could never hate him. I love him. He’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I love you too, Kat.” He gives me a gentle kiss. Warm lips that linger against mine like he’s savoring the moment. “Will you still love me if I fail you?”

My mouth drops open and my heart halts a beat. “Shit, Hugh, did I fail?”

He gives me his serious professor expression. The one he shows when he’s passing out poor grades or rough assignments.

“No, love, you squeaked by.” He reaches above his head for the paper he left on the table and he holds it in front of my face. In big green lettering there’s a B-. “I wanted to give you an A, but you know me.”

I snuggle into his chest and hug him tight. “I know. I have to own it.”

“You do. You own it all, Kat. You own the grade, and me, and now I have to own something myself.”

He slides from the couch to kneel on the floor. He pulls a pen from his pocket and opens the book I’ve been reading called Forever Girl by Fletch Hughson. He inscribes something on the front page.

“What are you doing to that book?”

“I’m signing it. I’m owning it. I’m Fletch Hughson, Kat. I wrote it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I really wanted you to like it because of the words not because I wrote it. I wanted to be graded using the same rubric I do with you. Love it because it speaks of passion to your soul, not because the hands that bring you pleasure penned it.”

I look down at the inscription. “You own all of me, Kat. Can I own you too?”

“Professor Fletcher, I’d like you to take me to bed and show me how talented those fingers are.”

“Is that right? Are you trying to get extra credit again?”

“Would I do that?”

“Come here you.” Hugh picks me up and carries me to our bed. “I’ve got a big extra credit project for you.”

I laugh because I know what he’s talking about, and it is big. “You’re so naughty.”

He tosses me to the bed and walks to the closet. He comes out with a bouquet and something palmed in his hand.

“Love, I wasn’t talking about my cock.” He pulls me to a sitting position at the end of the bed and kneels in front of me. I lift one of my favorite colored yellow roses to my nose.

“What are you doing?” His eyes are soft and full of passion and he looks at me with such depth of emotion.

“I need more, love. I need it all.”

I cup his cheek. “What can I give you?” I’d give this man anything. He took me from a miserable college senior who couldn’t see the gold at the end of the rainbow and showed me that he is the gold, and every day with him is the rainbow.

“I want you, Katherine Trent. I want you forever. Be my life. Be my love. Be my wife. Be my everything. Hug me. Hold me. Love me. Never let go. I’ll love you. Honor you. Worship you. I’ll be everything I can be to help you be the best you. If you say yes to marrying me, I’ll be the best me.” He opens his palm and in the center is a beautiful ring.

He slides the solitaire onto my finger and sits back on his heels waiting for my answer.

It’s not the ring that makes my decision but his words delivered with love.

“Hugh Fletcher, how can I say no when you use such passion and persuasion in your words. I feel each of those words in my heart. How did I get so damn lucky?”

He stands and presses me to the bed with his body. “You were reckless.”