44
Sara
I spend the remainder of the ride home in a haze, the ring on my finger both hot and icy on my skin. I didn’t respond to Peter’s side-of-the-road proposal—I couldn’t—and thankfully, he didn’t press me.
He just pulled back out onto the road and continued driving.
When we park in front of my building, Peter walks around and opens my door, taking my hand to help me out of the car. His grip is both solicitous and possessive, his gaze roving over me with a hunger that spikes my pulse and sets off alarm bells in my mind.
He’s not going to wait to take me.
He’s going to be on me—and in me—as soon as we get inside.
“Wait,” I say, suddenly desperate to slow things down. As much as I want him—as much as I physically missed him—I’m not ready for this. It’s been too long, and there are
