His eyes glint. “It’s a yes-or-no question. If the answer is no, tell me. But don’t fucking lie to me. Yes or no. Do you love me?”
The “no” trembles on my lips, fighting to get free, because I want so badly to do right by him. A war wages inside me, I don’t want him to feel obligated to me. I don’t want him to be tied to me when that’s not what he wants. But I want to tell him the truth.
For once, in my stupid, sorry life I want to tell someone how I really feel.
And just like that the fight seeps out of me. My shoulders slump. My jaw loosens. And I understand. It doesn’t matter. What he does or feels or how he responds isn’t the point.
I’m the point. And I want to be truthful. I want to risk it all. Because I’m never going to be happy until I realize the only person I can control is me.
I deserve the chance.
Tears fill my eyes. “Yes. I love you.”
No qualifications. No caveats. No excuses. Just a simple, straightforward answer with no apologies.
His grip softens, and his fingers run down my jaw to curl around my neck. He leans down and kisses me softly before whispering against my lips, “I love you too.”
I clutch at his shoulders, my throat too tight to speak.
“I know it’s crazy and I don’t care.” He kisses me again. “All I want is to be with you. Everything else will just have to work itself out.”
I nod and choke out, “Okay.” The words tremble at my lips and I say them, not caring that they sound needy. I am needy. And that’s okay. “Do you promise?”
“I promise.” His lips meet mine, stealing my breath and my heart in one fraction of a second. I feel his commitment, deep down, sinking into my bones.
He lifts his head. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
I nod.
“I’ll take care of everything, okay? You just focus on your dad and your family.” He sweeps my hair back and feathers a touch over my cheek.
I see it in his eyes; he wants to do this. Wants to take care of me in my time of crisis. Wants to relieve my burden instead of add to it. I mold myself against him, loving his solid, steady strength. How he grounds and centers me. I make him my own promise. “You won’t be sorry.”
“I know.”
“I’m going to do everything in my power to make you a happy man.”
He cocks a grin at me, my boyish devil. He winks. “I’ll remind you of that promise when I want to name our first child something weird, like Boa Constrictor.”
Oh my god, he wants kids. With me. Inwardly I scream with glee while I bat at his arm. “Like you’re going to get any say in that.”
“Oh no?” He chuckles and grabs my hand, and we start walking up the beach.
I spin, walking backwards so I can look at him. “Like any girl I’ve had my children’s names picked out since I was six.”
He groans.
I laugh. “So you’re already sorry?”
He tugs, and I tumble into his arms where he kisses me long and deep, promising me absolutely everything I have ever wanted. He pulls away and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “Never. You’re mine. And we’re in this together.”
“Good.” It’s settled then.
It’s back to my real life. Only better, because it’s with him.
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Yours to Take
by Cathryn Fox
One
“Please tell me you’re not serious?”
Jaw slack, and hands planted on the small round table, Rebecca Andrews stared at her three best friends, hardly able to believe what they were suggesting.
Lilliana James closed her palm over Rebecca’s hand and gave a reassuring squeeze. Even though the lights had been dimmed in their favorite New York piano bar, a place where they all convened after a challenging day in the courtroom, Rebecca didn’t miss the sympathy in her friend’s big brown eyes when she said, “Come on, Becs, you know as well as I do that you need a vacation.”
“It’s not a vacation she needs,” Melanie Collins piped in, running her fingers up and down the crystal stemware in a highly suggestive manner that had Rebecca’s thoughts careening in an erotic direction. She smirked and added, “What she needs is to get laid. Plain and simple.”
“Good, God,” Rebecca murmured under her breath, hoping like hell no one in the near vicinity could hear her tell-it-like-it-is friend.