Page 149 of Joker

That gets the faintest flush into her cheeks. Cute. Dangerous. Mine.

I lower my mouth closer to hers but don’t kiss her yet. “Soon as all this shit is over,” I murmur, “we’ll look at something more permanent.”

Her brows pull together slightly. “More permanent?”

“Yeah.”

The word comes easier than it should. Maybe because I’ve already been thinking it all day. Maybe because once a thing is true enough inside me, saying it out loud is the easy part.

I let my thumb sweep once over the side of her neck and tell her the rest. “Ours.”

The room goes very still.

I watch the word hit her. Watch it settle. Watch the fear and want and disbelief and hope all collide in her face at once. And because apparently I’ve decided to just fully set myself on fire emotionally this week, I say the part that’s truest.

“My family.”

Her inhale catches hard enough I feel it where our bodies touch.

For one second she just stares at me. Then her hands slide up my chest and around my neck and she kisses me like she doesn’t know whether to cry or climb inside my skin.

I take it. All of it.

The uncertainty. The hope. The relief. The fear.

I take it and kiss her back slow and deep and certain, one hand at her waist, the other cradling the back of her head while I hold her like I mean every fucking word I just said.

Because I do.

Not some fantasy version. Not some maybe if this all works out version. A real one.

A place. A home. A room for Lexi. A bed with Raven in it. A life that doesn’t end at the gates of this clubhouse if we can help it.

The thought should scare me.

It doesn’t. Not even a little.

When I finally pull back, her forehead stays against mine. Her breathing is uneven. Mine probably isn’t much better. Neither of us says anything for a second.

Then Raven whispers, “You really mean that?”

I don’t even know how to answer a question like that without getting offended.

So I go with honesty. “Every word.”

She closes her eyes. Not because she’s shutting down. Because she’s feeling it.

Letting it land. Letting it hurt and heal at the same time. And when she opens them again, there’s something different in them.

Still fragile around the edges. Still cautious. But steadier now. Like some tiny, terrified part of her has started believing she might actually be allowed to survive long enough to build something.

Good.

Because she is.

I kiss her once more. Slower this time. Then I murmur against her mouth, “Get in bed, angel.”

That gets me the faintest smile. “Bossy.”