If you’re ready, I’m ready …
Lola was fairly certain she was half mad. Or maybe all the way mad.
When she and Emma had talked about being monogamous with their favorite boy toys, Lola knew her best friend hadn’t been thinking of this. Fuck all, she hadn’t been thinking of it either. But then one of her distant cousins had just off and done it a few weeks prior, and now she couldn’t think of not doing it. It wasn’t as if she wanted to be with anyone else but Graham. It’d been that way for a long time, and she’d been ignoring it for a long time.
But ignoring it had only been pissing her off lately, and so she’d had to do some thinking. Some self-reflection.
It wasn’t something that Lola spent a lot of time doing. She loved living moment to moment, and she’d been satisfied for most of her life to just focus on the things that pleased her from moment to moment. But if she was being honest with herself, and for a change she had been, Lola had to admit that she didn’t always live moment to moment. She knew how to focus, work hard, and go after things even if it would take a long time to get them -- maybe not at all.
She’d wanted to be an Auror and she’d worked her arse off for it. She’d known it was unrealistic, but it hadn’t stopped her from trying. Everyone had said she was mad to even attempt it given her stature. It was the same with dancing. Everyone had said she was too short to ever make it, too rough around the edges, too uncultured to ever be a real ballerina.
Lola hadn’t ever let anyone tell her she couldn’t do something though, not when she put her mind to it. She’d failed the Auror examinations; she’d not been big or strong enough to pass the physical combat tests. But she hadn’t failed at dance. Despite the odds, she’d become a soloist for the most prestigious company in Britain. Lola knew she only had a few years before she’d have to start thinking of other things to do, but she was proud for having achieved something she’d worked so hard and long for.
She just hadn’t ever thought to put all that focus and determination toward Graham. Gods, if he knew how much she actually cared, he’d never let her live it down.
It made her more irritated than ever.
But not telling him seemed an even worse alternative. Her thoughts had taken her to places she hadn’t liked -- such as imagining if she kept ignoring her feelings and Graham decided to be with someone else. Just thinking about a life without him made her feel alone. Empty.
Sad.
Lola didn’t like those feelings; they were foreign ones, considering she was never really alone given the size of her family, that she had never been empty because there had always been someone there, and was rarely sad because there were so few people or things that had enough power over her to make her truly dejected.
Graham was one of those people though. Besides Emma, he was the only one she wasn’t related to already in some way or another. But that could be remedied.
It was Friday night and Lola had been pacing outside his door for at least half an hour. In that time she had gone from determined, to angry, to panicky, back to angry, and then worked herself around to unwaveringly resolute. When Lola decided to go after something she did what she put in her mind to do.
Coming to a decisive stop in front of his door, Lola nodded to herself, tucked her hair behind her ears, and then knocked.
Pausing with his toothbrush hanging loosely from his mouth, Graham’s brows rose slightly at the sounds coming from his foyer. He wasn’t expecting anyone, not that it was terribly uncommon for people to pop by. After spending the day with his family though, he knew his visitor was probably not kin. He gave his mouth a quick rinse and slipped a towel around his waist before ambling to the door.
A peek through the peephole showed only the top of a dark head of hair and his lips curled into a smirk. It had been some time since his hellkit had stopped by to scold him for whatever she’d decided he’d done to annoy her. Being put in his place by Lola was always enjoyable in the end. Pulling the door open, he ran a hand through his damp hair and leaned against the doorjamb. “Evenin’, pidge.”
Lola’s eyes found his chest first. The tug of want below her navel was a welcome friend; it’d been longer than normal since she’d last seen Graham (she’d had Very Serious things to think about), and she’d missed him. When he spoke though, her eyes narrowed and flicked up to meet his. “Don’t call me that.”
Graham’s blue eyes twinkled merrily as he stepped aside and motioned for her to come inside. “Alright, Kit. I suppose I ought to play nice until I have some clothes on. My bits are rather vulnerable in just my towel.”
Lola glared at him as she stepped inside his flat. Nails scraped down his abdomen roughly before slim fingers slipped beneath the edge of the towel at his waist to grip the material and tug him toward her. “You should think about the vulnerability of your bits before you call me that.”
Large hands spanned her tiny waist and Graham leaned down close to her ear. “You’re probably right,” Graham admitted, his breath fluttering her hair. His lips brushed lightly over the shell of her ear. “But you know I can’t help tempting fate.”
She ignored the shiver that ran up her spine and shifted a hand down and gripped him through the thin towel. “How’s this for tempting fate,” she asked sweetly as blue eyes rolled up to meet his. Lola gripped even harder and was more than a little satisfied when his whole body tensed. Bastard.
Graham stilled for the span a moment before straightening, his hands still firmly attached to her waist. He wouldn’t put it past Lola to do something a little unpleasant, but the fact was that he hadn’t had anyone gripping him - friendly or otherwise - in quite some time. His body’s reaction was automatic.
“Kit,” he said softly, “you know I love it when you touch me, but maybe we could preheat the oven before we try to cook the sausage, eh?”
Her eyes narrowed to thin slits and they stood like that for a long moment. “What is it with you and the fucking food metaphors?”
And with a snort of disgust, she released him and slipped by -- but not before snapping the towel off of him and leaving him bare before his open door. A grin curled her lips as she sauntered further into Graham’s home.
Shutting the door in a hurry, he shook his head. “Don’t like my special nicknames. Don’t like my metaphors,” Graham lamented as he followed Lola into his living room. To hear her talk, one would think she couldn’t stand him, yet here she was. Sidling up behind her, he picked the tiny woman up and carried her to the sofa, depositing her in his lap. “So tell me, Eleanor, is there anything you like about me or do you just visit as some sort of strange religious penance?”
His eyes were laughing at her. Normally Lola would let herself get irritated because that was the game she and Graham played. This time though, she let her eyes shift to the curl of his lips; it was a soft smile, not a smirk.
Her gaze flicked back up to his. “I like you,” she said, serious for once. Lola wasn’t sure she’d ever said it aloud like that, without anger or irritation, or sex to cushion how true it really was.
Graham’s head tipped to one side as he regarded the woman in his lap thoughtfully. Lola wasn’t one to share feelings with him easily, at least not those that didn’t result in her attacking him in one way or another. Her sincerity was clear though, and it had a true smile growing across his face.
“I like you too, Kit,” he admitted before tightening his arms around her and dropping a kiss to Lola’s forehead. As much fun as it was to play their usual games of exasperation and arousal, Graham recognized this moment for what it was and wasn’t inclined to ruin it. “I like you very much.”
His smile pulled one from Lola. They weren’t like this very often -- she didn’t let it happen very often. Being like this scared her because of the warmth that blossomed in her chest and made her want things she wasn’t ready to think about wanting.
But Lola had faced that fear, and for once she didn’t push away at the warmth. She just let it happen.
It felt good.
“I was thinking we should get married,” she said. Saying it made butterflies of anxiety flutter inside her, but she soldiered on before he could fully react. “Because I thought about how much I like you, and that I don’t like spending time with anyone else but you and I haven’t for a long time, and then I thought about you being with someone else if I didn’t take you first, and I didn’t like that. You being with someone else is fucking rubbish,” she said firmly. “So you have to be with me.”
Graham opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out so he closed it again. Brow furrowed, he pondered her words for a long moment before once again trying to come up with his own. “I think...” he began seriously. Carefully he shifted Lola from his lap and rose from the sofa. Looking back at her briefly, he finished, “I think I need clothes for this conversation.” With that he strode from the room and a moment later the sound of drawers being opened and closed drifted from the bedroom.
Perhaps most women would have been worried at this point. Lola was not most women.
She frowned at the hallway he’d disappeared down for a long moment and then stomped after him. “Clothes? When have you ever needed clothes when we’re together?”
Graham glanced up from fastening his belt. “This needs to happen the right way. The right way isn’t with me flapping in the breeze.” He tugged a shirt over his head and moved to the nightstand to rummage in the drawer. “Hard-headed, impulsive woman,” he grumbled under his breath. “Can’t let a man go about things his own way.”
Once he’d finished, he took Lola by the elbow and led her back to the living room. Directing her to the sofa, kneeled before her. When her mouth opened, Graham gave her a stern look and placed his finger over her lips. “Just give me a moment, alright?” He pulled a small box from his pocket and opened it to reveal a ring with a modest diamond. “For as long as I can remember, no one has excited me the way you do. I don’t want fucking rubbish, I just want you. Marry me?”
It was Lola’s turn to blink.
Graham was holding out a ring to her. Which meant he’d been thinking about it, and that he’d decided he wanted her for always too. But why had he waited until now when he’d obviously been prepared. The ring had been there in his night stand, after all.
A small frown marred her brow. “You’ve had this all along?” she said, blue eyes flicking up to his from the ring. “And you waited to ask me until now?” Lola poked him in the chest. “What if I hadn’t asked you first!? You would have just let it sit there and then forgotten me, and then everything would be fucked up!”
“I’ve mentioned the idea in the past and you’ve always threatened to hit me with a skillet!” Graham exclaimed with a huff. Taking the ring from the little box, he slid it on her ring finger and stood. “There! We’re engaged. It’s done. I’m going to kiss you now and then, Lola Branstone, you are going to tell me you love me.” He tugged her up from the sofa and into his arms, claiming her lips before the inevitable protest could form.
Instinct had her wriggling in his arms, but when he slanted his mouth over hers just so, Lola’s body went soft against his and her hands curled into his shirt to hold on instead of push away.
Graham kissed her until she was breathless, and when they finally broke apart her blue eyes were dark and hazy, and her breath came out in soft huffs. Lola felt soft and warm, and just right. Graham had always felt just right. “Tell me you love me first.” She nuzzled her nose against his throat. “I asked you to marry me first,” she reasoned, “so it’s your turn to go first.”
Snorting softly, he threaded his fingers through her dark hair and tipped her head so she was looking up at him. “I love you, Hellkit. I can’t wait to make you my wife.” It was true. He’d had it on his mind for a long time, but was waiting for an indication Lola was ready to make their relationship permanent. He’d certainly gotten that message from her tonight, he thought, grinning.
He was smiling at her, but Lola didn’t detect any smugness in it. She huffed.
Even so, her body was pliant against his and a small smile appeared to mirror his. “I love you too.” They were different words to say. Not comfortable in her mouth, but just like being with Graham and deciding to spend the rest of her life with him, they felt right. She would get used to them. “Even though you’re a fucking arsehole and half the time I can’t stand you. And the other half I want to toss the nearest tossable objects at you.”
“Even though most of the time I just want to toss you on the bed,” he added, rubbing noses with his fiancée. The feistiness he loved about Lola was still there, but something had settled between them and Graham liked the feeling of permanence it brought. It was a long time in coming.
Some things wouldn’t change though, and his grin curled into more of a smirk. “That will come in handy. Once we’re married, I can see about getting a little Pritchard started,” he teased, letting one hand drift down to her taut belly.
Lola sputtered and pushed him away. “We’ll have fucking devil spawn when I’m ready. And don’t you even think for a minute that I’m going to fuck around barefoot and pregnant for the next ten years. It’s not,” she poked him in the chest, “going,” poke, “to happen.” Poke, poke.
Snatching her wrist, Graham laughed and rubbed the sore spot on his chest with his other hand. “No, of course not. I’d never make you go shoeless,” he told her solemnly. “I may not be a rich man, but I can afford to keep my woman shod.”
Lola just narrowed her eyes at him. Instead of reaching for the book on the coffee table to throw at him, though, she shook him off and then grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him toward the door.
Graham’s brows raised, but he was a sensible man. This was not the time to argue with his little woman. He did spend a considerable amount of time wanting to toss her on the bed. He was okay with getting tossed himself once in awhile.
When she and Emma had talked about being monogamous with their favorite boy toys, Lola knew her best friend hadn’t been thinking of this. Fuck all, she hadn’t been thinking of it either. But then one of her distant cousins had just off and done it a few weeks prior, and now she couldn’t think of not doing it. It wasn’t as if she wanted to be with anyone else but Graham. It’d been that way for a long time, and she’d been ignoring it for a long time.
But ignoring it had only been pissing her off lately, and so she’d had to do some thinking. Some self-reflection.
It wasn’t something that Lola spent a lot of time doing. She loved living moment to moment, and she’d been satisfied for most of her life to just focus on the things that pleased her from moment to moment. But if she was being honest with herself, and for a change she had been, Lola had to admit that she didn’t always live moment to moment. She knew how to focus, work hard, and go after things even if it would take a long time to get them -- maybe not at all.
She’d wanted to be an Auror and she’d worked her arse off for it. She’d known it was unrealistic, but it hadn’t stopped her from trying. Everyone had said she was mad to even attempt it given her stature. It was the same with dancing. Everyone had said she was too short to ever make it, too rough around the edges, too uncultured to ever be a real ballerina.
Lola hadn’t ever let anyone tell her she couldn’t do something though, not when she put her mind to it. She’d failed the Auror examinations; she’d not been big or strong enough to pass the physical combat tests. But she hadn’t failed at dance. Despite the odds, she’d become a soloist for the most prestigious company in Britain. Lola knew she only had a few years before she’d have to start thinking of other things to do, but she was proud for having achieved something she’d worked so hard and long for.
She just hadn’t ever thought to put all that focus and determination toward Graham. Gods, if he knew how much she actually cared, he’d never let her live it down.
It made her more irritated than ever.
But not telling him seemed an even worse alternative. Her thoughts had taken her to places she hadn’t liked -- such as imagining if she kept ignoring her feelings and Graham decided to be with someone else. Just thinking about a life without him made her feel alone. Empty.
Sad.
Lola didn’t like those feelings; they were foreign ones, considering she was never really alone given the size of her family, that she had never been empty because there had always been someone there, and was rarely sad because there were so few people or things that had enough power over her to make her truly dejected.
Graham was one of those people though. Besides Emma, he was the only one she wasn’t related to already in some way or another. But that could be remedied.
It was Friday night and Lola had been pacing outside his door for at least half an hour. In that time she had gone from determined, to angry, to panicky, back to angry, and then worked herself around to unwaveringly resolute. When Lola decided to go after something she did what she put in her mind to do.
Coming to a decisive stop in front of his door, Lola nodded to herself, tucked her hair behind her ears, and then knocked.
Pausing with his toothbrush hanging loosely from his mouth, Graham’s brows rose slightly at the sounds coming from his foyer. He wasn’t expecting anyone, not that it was terribly uncommon for people to pop by. After spending the day with his family though, he knew his visitor was probably not kin. He gave his mouth a quick rinse and slipped a towel around his waist before ambling to the door.
A peek through the peephole showed only the top of a dark head of hair and his lips curled into a smirk. It had been some time since his hellkit had stopped by to scold him for whatever she’d decided he’d done to annoy her. Being put in his place by Lola was always enjoyable in the end. Pulling the door open, he ran a hand through his damp hair and leaned against the doorjamb. “Evenin’, pidge.”
Lola’s eyes found his chest first. The tug of want below her navel was a welcome friend; it’d been longer than normal since she’d last seen Graham (she’d had Very Serious things to think about), and she’d missed him. When he spoke though, her eyes narrowed and flicked up to meet his. “Don’t call me that.”
Graham’s blue eyes twinkled merrily as he stepped aside and motioned for her to come inside. “Alright, Kit. I suppose I ought to play nice until I have some clothes on. My bits are rather vulnerable in just my towel.”
Lola glared at him as she stepped inside his flat. Nails scraped down his abdomen roughly before slim fingers slipped beneath the edge of the towel at his waist to grip the material and tug him toward her. “You should think about the vulnerability of your bits before you call me that.”
Large hands spanned her tiny waist and Graham leaned down close to her ear. “You’re probably right,” Graham admitted, his breath fluttering her hair. His lips brushed lightly over the shell of her ear. “But you know I can’t help tempting fate.”
She ignored the shiver that ran up her spine and shifted a hand down and gripped him through the thin towel. “How’s this for tempting fate,” she asked sweetly as blue eyes rolled up to meet his. Lola gripped even harder and was more than a little satisfied when his whole body tensed. Bastard.
Graham stilled for the span a moment before straightening, his hands still firmly attached to her waist. He wouldn’t put it past Lola to do something a little unpleasant, but the fact was that he hadn’t had anyone gripping him - friendly or otherwise - in quite some time. His body’s reaction was automatic.
“Kit,” he said softly, “you know I love it when you touch me, but maybe we could preheat the oven before we try to cook the sausage, eh?”
Her eyes narrowed to thin slits and they stood like that for a long moment. “What is it with you and the fucking food metaphors?”
And with a snort of disgust, she released him and slipped by -- but not before snapping the towel off of him and leaving him bare before his open door. A grin curled her lips as she sauntered further into Graham’s home.
Shutting the door in a hurry, he shook his head. “Don’t like my special nicknames. Don’t like my metaphors,” Graham lamented as he followed Lola into his living room. To hear her talk, one would think she couldn’t stand him, yet here she was. Sidling up behind her, he picked the tiny woman up and carried her to the sofa, depositing her in his lap. “So tell me, Eleanor, is there anything you like about me or do you just visit as some sort of strange religious penance?”
His eyes were laughing at her. Normally Lola would let herself get irritated because that was the game she and Graham played. This time though, she let her eyes shift to the curl of his lips; it was a soft smile, not a smirk.
Her gaze flicked back up to his. “I like you,” she said, serious for once. Lola wasn’t sure she’d ever said it aloud like that, without anger or irritation, or sex to cushion how true it really was.
Graham’s head tipped to one side as he regarded the woman in his lap thoughtfully. Lola wasn’t one to share feelings with him easily, at least not those that didn’t result in her attacking him in one way or another. Her sincerity was clear though, and it had a true smile growing across his face.
“I like you too, Kit,” he admitted before tightening his arms around her and dropping a kiss to Lola’s forehead. As much fun as it was to play their usual games of exasperation and arousal, Graham recognized this moment for what it was and wasn’t inclined to ruin it. “I like you very much.”
His smile pulled one from Lola. They weren’t like this very often -- she didn’t let it happen very often. Being like this scared her because of the warmth that blossomed in her chest and made her want things she wasn’t ready to think about wanting.
But Lola had faced that fear, and for once she didn’t push away at the warmth. She just let it happen.
It felt good.
“I was thinking we should get married,” she said. Saying it made butterflies of anxiety flutter inside her, but she soldiered on before he could fully react. “Because I thought about how much I like you, and that I don’t like spending time with anyone else but you and I haven’t for a long time, and then I thought about you being with someone else if I didn’t take you first, and I didn’t like that. You being with someone else is fucking rubbish,” she said firmly. “So you have to be with me.”
Graham opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out so he closed it again. Brow furrowed, he pondered her words for a long moment before once again trying to come up with his own. “I think...” he began seriously. Carefully he shifted Lola from his lap and rose from the sofa. Looking back at her briefly, he finished, “I think I need clothes for this conversation.” With that he strode from the room and a moment later the sound of drawers being opened and closed drifted from the bedroom.
Perhaps most women would have been worried at this point. Lola was not most women.
She frowned at the hallway he’d disappeared down for a long moment and then stomped after him. “Clothes? When have you ever needed clothes when we’re together?”
Graham glanced up from fastening his belt. “This needs to happen the right way. The right way isn’t with me flapping in the breeze.” He tugged a shirt over his head and moved to the nightstand to rummage in the drawer. “Hard-headed, impulsive woman,” he grumbled under his breath. “Can’t let a man go about things his own way.”
Once he’d finished, he took Lola by the elbow and led her back to the living room. Directing her to the sofa, kneeled before her. When her mouth opened, Graham gave her a stern look and placed his finger over her lips. “Just give me a moment, alright?” He pulled a small box from his pocket and opened it to reveal a ring with a modest diamond. “For as long as I can remember, no one has excited me the way you do. I don’t want fucking rubbish, I just want you. Marry me?”
It was Lola’s turn to blink.
Graham was holding out a ring to her. Which meant he’d been thinking about it, and that he’d decided he wanted her for always too. But why had he waited until now when he’d obviously been prepared. The ring had been there in his night stand, after all.
A small frown marred her brow. “You’ve had this all along?” she said, blue eyes flicking up to his from the ring. “And you waited to ask me until now?” Lola poked him in the chest. “What if I hadn’t asked you first!? You would have just let it sit there and then forgotten me, and then everything would be fucked up!”
“I’ve mentioned the idea in the past and you’ve always threatened to hit me with a skillet!” Graham exclaimed with a huff. Taking the ring from the little box, he slid it on her ring finger and stood. “There! We’re engaged. It’s done. I’m going to kiss you now and then, Lola Branstone, you are going to tell me you love me.” He tugged her up from the sofa and into his arms, claiming her lips before the inevitable protest could form.
Instinct had her wriggling in his arms, but when he slanted his mouth over hers just so, Lola’s body went soft against his and her hands curled into his shirt to hold on instead of push away.
Graham kissed her until she was breathless, and when they finally broke apart her blue eyes were dark and hazy, and her breath came out in soft huffs. Lola felt soft and warm, and just right. Graham had always felt just right. “Tell me you love me first.” She nuzzled her nose against his throat. “I asked you to marry me first,” she reasoned, “so it’s your turn to go first.”
Snorting softly, he threaded his fingers through her dark hair and tipped her head so she was looking up at him. “I love you, Hellkit. I can’t wait to make you my wife.” It was true. He’d had it on his mind for a long time, but was waiting for an indication Lola was ready to make their relationship permanent. He’d certainly gotten that message from her tonight, he thought, grinning.
He was smiling at her, but Lola didn’t detect any smugness in it. She huffed.
Even so, her body was pliant against his and a small smile appeared to mirror his. “I love you too.” They were different words to say. Not comfortable in her mouth, but just like being with Graham and deciding to spend the rest of her life with him, they felt right. She would get used to them. “Even though you’re a fucking arsehole and half the time I can’t stand you. And the other half I want to toss the nearest tossable objects at you.”
“Even though most of the time I just want to toss you on the bed,” he added, rubbing noses with his fiancée. The feistiness he loved about Lola was still there, but something had settled between them and Graham liked the feeling of permanence it brought. It was a long time in coming.
Some things wouldn’t change though, and his grin curled into more of a smirk. “That will come in handy. Once we’re married, I can see about getting a little Pritchard started,” he teased, letting one hand drift down to her taut belly.
Lola sputtered and pushed him away. “We’ll have fucking devil spawn when I’m ready. And don’t you even think for a minute that I’m going to fuck around barefoot and pregnant for the next ten years. It’s not,” she poked him in the chest, “going,” poke, “to happen.” Poke, poke.
Snatching her wrist, Graham laughed and rubbed the sore spot on his chest with his other hand. “No, of course not. I’d never make you go shoeless,” he told her solemnly. “I may not be a rich man, but I can afford to keep my woman shod.”
Lola just narrowed her eyes at him. Instead of reaching for the book on the coffee table to throw at him, though, she shook him off and then grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him toward the door.
Graham’s brows raised, but he was a sensible man. This was not the time to argue with his little woman. He did spend a considerable amount of time wanting to toss her on the bed. He was okay with getting tossed himself once in awhile.