The mirrored smart glass. He bit me.Claimedme. I’d been so lost in the moment it hadn’t even registered.
“Does it hurt?” he asks, gently massaging the balm into my skin.
“No. I didn’t even notice.”
“Inoticed.” He finishes. “I always notice.”
Something about the tenderness in his voice makes my chest tight. “Corin.”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you. For staying. For not running.”
He looks up, meets my eyes. “Thank you for letting me. Thank you for not running as well. Thank you for staying after New Year’s Eve. Thank you for the second chance.”
We stay like that for a moment, just looking at each other, and I can’t believe I almost walked away fromthis. From the man who uses balm on my shoulders and lets me see his vulnerability and fights for me when I’m too scared to fight for myself.
Don’t cry.
Don’t you dare cry right now.
Too late.
I feel the tears pooling.
“Hey.” He sets the balm aside, cups my face. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know.” I laugh, wiping at my eyes. “I’m just really happy. And that’s terrifying. Because what if it all falls apart again? What if Xavier wins? What if—”
“Amara.” He kisses me, soft and slow. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
“You keep saying that,” I point out.
“Because it’s true. And because you need to keep hearing it.” He pulls me closer, settling us both back against the pillows. “Now stop worrying about everything and let me hold you.”
“I’m a lawyer,” I remind him. “Worrying about everything is literally in my job description.”
He rests a gentle thumb on my chin. “Then consider yourself off the clock.”
I burrow into his chest, breathing in his scent. “Corin?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.” The words still feel weird coming out of my mouth. Like I’m admitting to a crime I committed but hoped no one would notice. It also makes me feel really vulnerable, because what if he doesn’t say it back this time? What if he’s having second thoughts? What if in his post-sex clarity he’s realized I’m actually a walking disaster in disguise who—
His arms tighten around me. “I love you, too.”
Oh.
I relax completely against him.
“Say it again,” I insist, because I can never hear it enough.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, and there’s so much tenderness in his eyes I can barely stand it. “I love you, Amara Khan. I love your brain and your sarcasm and the way you annotate legal documents like you’re solving a crime. I love that you take your coffee black and fold your arms when you’re scared and leave your sandals everywhere except where they belong.”
“I was trying to be symbolic with the sandal thing,” I explain.
He nods, smiling. “I know. It was adorable.”
