Compulsion

Compulsion Final Part 30

"I know you don't want to get married." Georgia said quietly trying to hide the tinge of sadness in her voice and eyes.

"I don't know where you got that idea from." He narrowed his gaze and shook his head maddened by the fact she was unsure. "But if that's all that's worrying you. You and I," he told her, "are getting married." He met her gaze, "I want to marry you." He stated. "So, you are marrying me." Not exactly the most eloquent of proposals he thought.

"Do you really want to get married?" She whispered, hoping he really did, while not wanting him to feel pressured into taking this step. "We could..."

"What?" He challenged with a frown and couldn't help feeling exasperated. "Just meet up for dinner and sex?" He shifted and grumbled quietly before he said more loudly, "I want more than that." He sat up, still astride her thighs. "I want it all." He told her, and then took her chin in his fingers and tipped her head up so that their eyes met when he said. "With you. Only with you!"

The last thing she wanted was to guilt trip him into proposing. "I don't want you to feel trapped into this." She said, propped her elbows on the bed and levered up.

"Trapped?" He looked astonished then shook his head. "I'm practically begging you to marry me." He told her.

"Yes, but ..."

"But what?"

"But do we really know each other. Well enough to get married? We probably don't." Which she knew was a lie. But she wanted him to be sure about taking this step.

Astonished Elias blinked. "Stop! You can't really believe that! Seriously? You don't think we know each other? Seriously?" She could see he was annoyed and frustrated by the fact she was stalling. He held a palm up. "Go on, ask me."

"Ask you what?"

"Anything. What's your favourite flower? Sweet pea!" He said calmly. Her eyes widened. "You wanted that for the school dance but Caitlin said orchids were likely to last longer, and not wilt, so you went with orchids." He folded his arms, "So, ask me." She remained mute, astonished that he had remembered the flower conversation. "Your favourite colour is a kind of burnt gold." He told her. "It's what you wore to a Christmas party two years ago, you told mum it was your favourite colour." He quirked a brow, challenging her, "You read romance novels."

"That's..."

"Easy?" He nodded. "And you like Crowded House." He added. "You make lists about things, and buy your Christmas cards in November. You dumped Henry Browston because he slagged me off as a cripple."

"How did you know..."

"He told me. Said he didn't understand why you would bother to stand up for me." He saw the anger flash into her eyes. "So, let's see what you know about me. Favourite colour?"

"Blue." She replied automatically.

"Music?" He quirked a brow.

"Ella Fitzgerald. And The Police."

"Cats or Dogs?"

"Dogs." She replied.

"What type?"

"German Shepherd."

He leaned forward and hauled her more upright, so that they sat facing each other, his hands holding her, "We know the trivia." He waited for her to look at him. "We also know the important stuff, like family first and we know our bad habits. I know you can sulk. You know I am arrogant." He told her and grinned, "If that isn't a basis to get married, what is?"

"It's just such a huge leap. A few weeks back you were barely giving me the time of the day. Now you want to get married."

"I made a mistake 14 years ago. Don't compound it by making us wait another 14 years."