Who Do You Love - Dean Ambrose

Chapter 46: The Mac To My Cheese

"Uh oh."

I blinked as the familiarly gruff tones broke through the relative peace of the night and then padded towards me sluggishly on the carpet before falling down heavily into the cushion by my side. Dean was looking back at me smirking lopsidedly and to say the look confused me was an understatement,

"What?"

He gestured towards the flickering flatscreen and then waved his hand around,

"Weddin' shit already huh?"

Following his gaze I belatedly realized that I had been vaguely half-watching some uber cheesy Hallmark film and one which had apparently reached the super big finale since the pretty lead female character with perfect hair in loose ringlets was slipping like a princess into a pristine wedding gown, flanked by a woman that I assumed was her fake mother shedding crocodile tears and saying how beautiful she looked.

I blushed a little,

"I wasn't - I mean I wasn't trying to - ,"

"Princess," Dean reached over and patted at my head, smoothing my hair like I was some kind of labrador instead of his recently minted fiancée but making the movement so warming and easy that I ended up liking it so toppled over into his space.

"Mmmm."

I landed up against his broad chest pretty heavily but then proceeded to immediately bed myself in, tucking my arms in tight around his body and then using his abs like the best pillow ever made, or potentially the world's most hunky bed linen or more than likely both.

He was too perfect to be real.

His lips found out my crown and then pressed a kiss against it but it tickled and so I let out a tiny little laugh, which then turned into a full blown case of the giggles as he repeated it until I was forced to poke him in the ribs,

"Why are you so mean to me? Stop it."

Dean raised a brow at me,

"You think I'm mean to you huh?"

"I mean this is practically an abusive relationship."

"Ouch."

He threw me an actual pout in response to that which I could only really see by craning my eyes up but sure enough, his bottom lip was sticking right out and so I lifted a finger and pushed it back in which then predictably laid me wide open to a bite.

Snap.

I squeaked as his canines closed in gently over the tip of my newly painted nail, which had taken me literally hours to get perfect without either smudging or somehow messing it up and which had pretty rapidly made me remember precisely why I never bothered with it much, since having your fingertips looking a pretty color was not even remotely worth the mental breakdown it threw up. Plus because I had the crazy sort of a boyfriend who liked to bite things including me.

Oops.

Fiancé -

Dean and I were engaged now as the ring on my third finger beautifully proved and never more so than when it was twinkling in the moonlight or the glow of the television that was lighting up the room. It was a simple design, because neither one of us was fancy, but the twisted and studded band was pretty much the perfect choice. Not that I would have turned down anything the man had proffered, since the message had been the main thing.