Page 237 of The Unwilling Bride
"You succeeded."
Three beats of silence.
"But not the way you think." Her gaze holds mine. "Working beside you in the kitchen, sleeping in your bed, watching you when you thought I wasn't looking; all of it stripped away the Ice Commander. You can't hide from someone who sees you give one of your staff the day off when his child is unwell, or who sees you feed a cat when you think no one's watching."
Her thumb brushes my jaw. "It made me understand the real you."
I cup her cheek and brush my lips over hers.
Soft. Too soft for a man with my hands. Too sweet for someone who’s killed people. Undeserving for the child in me who felt abandoned by his own parents. Her taste fills my palate. It calms the ache in my chest. Like honey on a burn, like mercy after a court-martial, like forgiveness I haven't earned.
"I love you."
I whisper the words against her lips like a confession. Like a vow. Like the truth I've been choking on for weeks. Months. Years.
Love is the one emotion I can't control. Surrendering to it feels inevitable. There's a relief in it I didn't expect. Like drawing in the first breath after surfacing from a freedive.
Like finding a piece of myself I didn't know was missing until she filled the space. Like becoming something more than the hollow shell I've been operating inside.
"I love you." I say it again.
Because I need her to hear it.
Because I need to hear myself say it. Because I love the sound of it. "I love you so goddamn much it terrifies me."
67
Harper
"You love me?" I cup his jaw, my thumb tracing the line of his cheek. "You actually love me?”
"I really do.” He leans in until our chests almost touch. "I spent my life building the rules by which I lived. They made the world stop spinning so fast. But I'd rather live in the chaos with you than be safe in the silence without you."
My heart drums against my ribs, captivated by this raw, unpolished version of him. He’s split his chest open and pulled out his heart to hand it to me. How can I resist that?
How can I turn down this vulnerability he’s sharing with me?
How can I do anything but reciprocate his complete devotion. His love. His tenderness. His ability to make me feel like I’m the only person in the world he wants by his side.
He brushes his lips over mine. A ghost of a touch, soft and sweet, yet layered with a heavy, wordless possession. Our breaths mingle in the heat between us. His scent, dark and familiar, hits me like a physical wave, making every nerve ending snap to attention.
He nips at my lower lip, a silent command, and when I open for him, he doesn't hesitate. His tongue sweeps over mine, tasting of salt and heat and something purely him. It’s so confident, so certain, that it sends a sharp, rhythmic tug of desire straight to my core.
My eyelashes brush against his, our gazes locked so tightly, it feels like we're breathing the same air, sending a jagged shiver vibrating down my spine.
I sense him pocketing the hair ties.
Then, he locks a big palm around the nape of my neck. To be held like this by the man I love signals his possessiveness. His dominance. His strength. It makes me feel secure. Happy. Loved. Perfect.
My heart feels too big for my chest. A slow, steady heat spreads under my skin, grounding me for the first time in years.
His fingers feel like a restraint, which in turn, amps up my desire. He slants his head and licks into my mouth. His lips cover mine, gentle yet firm. There’s an assuredness running through him. A confidence which has always been there, but which is now edged with certainty. Conviction. And also, additional reverence. Almost, devotion. An openness that strikes deep in my core and causes heat to pool between my thighs. My pussy clenches. My thighs tremble. I press in closer to him, wanting to get rid of this yawning emptiness deep within me. But he’s holding me in place, so I’m unable to move.
I twist my body instead, trying to get my leg over his thigh. I want to ride him but don’t have the reach to do so.
A small part of me realizes we’re in the open, and that anyone could see us as they pass, but I shove that aside. This overriding yearning inside of me digs into my skin and burrows in, firing me up in a way that makes me frantic. I make a frustrated noise at the back of my throat. And he must hear it, for the next moment, he hauls me up with his palms on my waist and onto his lap, so I’m straddling him.
With a groan I press in, flattening my breasts against his chest. My nipples tighten. I love this new position, where I’m at eye level with him.
