Conquest (The Four Groomsmen of the Wedpocalypse #1)

by Lilian Monroe

Smiling! At a time like this! Strangling him would be too kind. He deserved to be tickled to death. Or stretched out on a medieval rack and submitted to the most horrid water torture imaginable. Or…or…have every one of his long, full eyelashes plucked out.

Then he shifted, and his hand slipped against hers. She made to pull away, but he intertwined their fingers before she had the chance to escape. He was… He was holding her hand. It was a shock to the system, intimate in a way she hadn’t expected. That broad, warm palm pressed against hers. His long fingers curled and notched between her knuckles. The heat of it. The sheer size of it.

She felt like a giant had grabbed her by the ankles and shook her like a piggy bank, hoping her brain would fall out of her ears in fat gold coins.

“Do we need to shiv him?” Lucy asked. “I can start sharpening the end of my toothbrush.”

“The retreat was fine.” “Fine,” Marlon repeated. “Yes.” “I’m not sure you know what that word means.”

When she was sure she couldn’t stand another moment, Leo dropped to his knees beside her and said two words on a gust of breath: “Marry me.”

“Oh, wow, I just got a call from NASA, and they said they can see your ego from outer space.”