Page 28 of Promised to the Heir

Something shifts inside me, a pull that tightens every muscle. My skin prickles as if the air has turned alive.

He smiles, the corner of his mouth curving slow. “I’ll risk it.”

When his arms slide around me, my world steadies. His heartbeat thuds against my cheek, sure and strong, like it’s marking time just for me.

“Do you think he’ll really change?” I ask.

Jeremy’s thumb moves in slow circles at the base of my spine. “I don’t know. Addicts lie until they don’t. Sometimes they learn better. Sometimes they don’t.”

I lift my head and his lips find mine.

For a heartbeat I hover there, breath caught, the last of the tension still coiled tight inside me. Then his hand slides up my back and settles between my shoulder blades, drawing me closer. My body goes with him before I can think about it.

His mouth moves over mine, giving me time to meet him instead of taking control. I lean in, closing the distance I’ve been holding onto all day. My fingers curl into his shirt, the fabric bunching under my grip as I anchor myself to him. He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and I open to him. The first brush of his tongue pulls a soft sound from me, my breath catching as I answer him, matching the rhythm he sets. I follow it, fall into it, until my breathing lines up with his.

His thumb traces the same path at the base of my spine, again and again, keeping me there. I shift closer, pressing into him, feeling the strength of his body under my hands, the rise and fall of his chest against mine. The noise in my head fades. The tight knot under my ribs loosens, piece by piece, until I can draw in a full breath without it catching.

When he eases back, it happens in stages. His lips brush mine once more before he pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against mine. His hand stays at my back, not letting me drift.

I keep my eyes closed, holding onto the moment, letting it settle. “I’m not responsible for him.”

Jeremy doesn’t hesitate. “No. You’re not.”

My shoulders drop under his hand. My grip on his shirt loosens, but I don’t step away. I flatten my palms against his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath them. He stays where he is, giving me space without stepping back, without filling the silence.

I open my eyes and meet his.

“We should get you ready,” he says.

I nod, but stay where I am. My fingers smooth over his shirt where I wrinkled it, a small excuse to keep touching him.

In a few hours, I’ll be standing in front of everyone.

Mrs. Jeremy Weston.

The thought moves through me without resistance. My chest doesn’t tighten. I don’t brace. Our marriage may have been arranged, but it feels pre-destined instead. Like this man was always meant for me.

I lean in and kiss him again, softer this time. He answers it immediately, his hand tightening briefly at the back of my neck before easing.

“I know,” I say. “We should.”

But my hands remain on his chest, my body still angled toward his.

Because when I walk down that aisle, he’ll be there.

And this time, I don’t feel like I have to hold everything together on my own. Love will do that for me.

The words come out before I can stop them. “I love you,” I whisper, looking up into his eyes, holding my breath as I wait to see if he’ll say it back.

He doesn’t hesitate. “I love you to. I think I always have.” He pauses, then smiles. “So let’s go make it official, shall we?”

EPILOGUE

Caleb

Friday nights still smell like popcorn, sweat, and rain on steel. The stands creak under the weight of half the town. Red jackets, paper cups, the clang of the marching band somewhere behind me. The Bulls are already warming up on the field, helmets flashing under the floodlights.

I spot the old crew halfway down the bleachers. Jeremy’s got Clara tucked against his side, her hand resting on his knee. They’re laughing at something the announcer said, and for a second, I forget the noise around me. He looks at her, unguarded, like she’s the only thing on the field, and it hits me right in the sternum.