Page 72 of Pretense & Sensibility

He gives a snort of laughter against my skin. “I know that now. But at the time, I didn’t know what Ian was getting into. If she broke his heart …”

He’s still holding me so close, with his face burrowed against my neck and my hands on his shoulders. I feel the shudder go through him. I feel him swallow back what I can only assume are tears.

Maybe it shouldn’t be sexy, how vulnerable he is right now, but it is. Because no one—no boyfriend or hook up or friend or relative—has ever been this vulnerable with me before. Has ever trusted me like this before. Has ever come so close to handing over his heart and letting me hold it in my hands.

“I was so fucking scared. I was scared of what would happen if things went south for them. And I was terrified that if you found out what I’d done, you’d freak out.”

“What do you mean? What you’d done?”

“That I met you just once and pretty much went around the bend. I think some part of me knew you were it for me from that moment. Then, after that day in the elevator, I was obsessed. I found out everything I could about you. I went a little crazy trying to figure out how to help you and protect you. And then it seemed like it had all backfired. I had no idea how to protect him and be with you. I had no idea how to put what I wanted before what he needed. Maybe he didn’t need me to protect him, but I didn’t know how not to.”

I hold him as tightly as I can and try to pour everything I’m feeling for him into that embrace. “I get it. I really do. I don’t know what I would have done if our positions were reversed.”

Except I kind of do know what I would have done. Because I was there in when I realized Savannah was falling for Ian. I know how worried I was for her heart until I saw them together. Somehow it’s harder to watch someone you love run head first into danger than would it ever be to do so yourself.

My breath catches as it hits me, fully, fast, and hard. I love him.

I love Martin completely and with every frayed and frantic fiber of my being.

I don’t know yet if I’m ready to say it out loud, but I definitely want to do something about it. To feel him inside of me.

I rock my hips again. His cock has softened a little—totally natural given the intensity of our conversation—but the moment he feels me moving against him, it’s hard again. I try to angle my hips so that he just slips inside me.

He plants his hands on my hips to still me and pulls back to look at me. “Hang on there, Princess. We still don’t have condoms.”

I pout and stick out my tongue. “Bully.”

“Protector,” he counters.

I rub my clit against the length of him, my mind racing. “Okay, let’s speed-round twenty questions.”

He just arches an eyebrow in silent question.

“I haven’t been with anyone else since we were together and I was clean then. You?”

“Same,” he says without a moment’s hesitation.

“I want kids. Do you?”

“Yes, but?—”

“I love you. Do you love me?”

He stills, his gazing darkening to an even deeper black than normal. “Are you sure?”

“Abso-clucking-lutely.”

This makes him laugh, which is exactly what I intended.

He hugs me to him again, this time burrowing his face in my hair so he can whisper in my ear. “I love you, too, Princess.”

I hold his words tight to my soul, squeezing them into all the empty places in my heart. Then, when I’m afraid I might ruin the moment by bursting into tears, I pull back and look at him. “What’s with the nickname garbage? Sometimes it’s Princess. Sometimes it’s Your Highness. Sometimes it’s Buttercup. Do you have latent decision making related anxiety?”

He chuckles. “It’s not obvious?”

I shake my head. “Not at all.”

He slips a hand into my hair. “You’re my hot-mess Princess Leia. It’s how I thought of you before I knew your name. And it fits. You’re strong and fierce, Princess.” He kisses me, long and deep and soul-searing. “Your Highness.”

I give a little shiver. “Okay, but then why did you call me Buttercup yesterday?”

“Because Princess Leia is for us. Just us. I don’t ever want to share that with anyone else. But Princess Buttercup is what? The second best princess of all time. So I’m willing to share that version of you with others.”

And that may be the sweetest, sexiest thing anyone has ever said to me.

“I can live with that.” I grind myself against him. “Now, will you please fuck me?”

And he does.

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