Page 139 of Claimed At First Sight

I don’t do comfort. I deal with problems. Yet standing here with her looking at me as though the world is less certain than it was half an hour ago, all I can think about is making sure she never has to carry something like this alone.

“Everything worked out,” I say quietly.

“Because you were here,” she says. “Because you took over.”

“You would have dealt with it just as well.”

She shakes her head, a tear finally spilling over. “I’m not so sure.”

“I am,” I counter, leaving no room for her to doubt herself. “You kept it together until Ari was safe. You stayed focused when it mattered. What you’re feeling now is the adrenaline crash. That’s normal.”

I catch the tear with my thumb before it can travel any farther down her cheek.

That does me in.

Before I can reconsider, I wrap my arms around her and pull her flush against me.

She stiffens for half a second, remembering that we’re supposed to be on opposite sides of this fight. Then she exhales and something inside her seems to give way.

The tension leaves her as she settles against me, no longer trying to argue, push back, or put distance between us.

She lets me hold her.

Maybe it’s only because she’s overwhelmed. Her walls will probably go back up the moment she pulls herself together.

I don’t care.

Right now she’s here, in my arms, trusting me enough to lean on me when she needs it. I don’t know when that became something I wanted. I only know that I do.

“Just because we’re hugging doesn’t mean it changes anything,” she mutters, her voice muffled by my coat.

A small smile tugs at my mouth. “I know. We can take up our sparring again tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she whispers, melting into me more.

She winds her arms around my waist. The gesture is so unexpected that it takes me a few seconds to absorb the fact that she’s holding on to me.

I swallow the sudden lump in my throat and tighten my arms around her, pulling her a little closer as I lower my face into her hair. She smells of the winter cold and the citrus soap she uses at Aldo’s.

I like the feel of her in my arms. It’s dangerously addictive.

“Or,” I say, the possessive urge rearing its head, “you could just agree to marry me.”

She lets out a soft huff against my chest. “You haven’t even proposed properly.”

“That’s not how arranged marriages work.”

“There’s no arrangement between us,” she shoots back, a spark of her fire returning to her tone. “You just decided that’s what you wanted.”

“True,” I concede, nuzzling her hair and breathing her in. “So, if I proposed properly, you’d say yes?”

“No, definitely not.”

I chuckle, the vibration rumbling between our chests.

“So you want me to ask purely so you can reject me?”

“Absolutely.”