“So that’s all you want from me? Sex?” Okay, that was not what I was going to say. I was going to tell him I had no interest, ninety-four percent match or not. Somewhere between my brain and my mouth, my vagina (definitely not my heart) took over. Bram leans forward, his warm brown eyes searching my face. “No,” he says at last. “Actually, I’m going to marry you.”
