He laughed.
I slipped down the hall to the bathroom. While washing my hands, I caught my reflection. A woman in love, wearing his ring. My heart made ridiculous little skips.
He’d fallen for me. Freaking me. The random girl from Folsom who used to think “exciting” meant finding a matching pair of socks had snagged the West Coast’s most wanted GQ bachelor, according to Sam.
My smile spread wide. Someone pinch me, preferably with a very large, soft pillow. I splashed cool water on my face, steadying my grin. When I returned, Sean was at the kitchen island mixing the drink.
I walked over to him.
He handed me the drink. I took a long pull from the straw, savoring the flavor.
“May I?”
He took a sip from my glass, and I realized he’d only made one. He knew how to turnsharing is caringinto an incredibly hot moment.
We passed the glass back and forth between sips and kisses. Then the kiss lengthened and slowed. When he pulled away, he caught my hand and kissed my neck, below my ear. I tilted my neck, breath hitching, and he followed the invitation.
“This curve of your neck is perfect. Everything about you is perfect,” he murmured.
He kissed the other side, then both my collarbones, before his mouth met mine again. Languid, deliberate, each kiss a little deeper than the last. Butterflies everywhere. My insides were doing acrobatics. Good thing I was leaning against the island.
Then he took my hand and led me toward his room. My pulse stuttered, my heart thudded hard. The door clicked shut—the sound of a new chapter beginning. A very, very exciting chapter.
He turned to me, his mouth finding mine again, electric and charged. My back met the wall, his hands braced on either side of me, and we kissed, the moment slipping through our fingers.
As if everything we’d said tonight, every yes, every promise, was already locked in, and this was the seal. The official, no-take-backs, forever-and-ever seal.
His tongue curled around mine, tasting me fully before pulling back. Then the movement restarted. My hands trembled as I slipped my fingers into his hair and tugged lightly. He groaned, low and rough.
“Cutie,” he breathed against my mouth, voice rough with emotion. My new favorite word, especially in that voice.
I could feel it. In the tension of his body, in the way his hand held the hem of my shirt.
His gaze flicked lower. “This blouse is doing things to me,” he murmured, brushing the edge with his knuckle. “The way it curves over you is so sexy.”
Every word was a soft touch, heat blooming under his gaze. His hands warmed my waist, and everything in me surged forward. I slid my hands beneath his shirt, fingers tracing the warmth of his skin, the solid strength of him. He shivered under my touch, and I felt a rush of satisfaction.
My brain was clearly on sabbatical.
A voice hovered, asking if I was allowed to love him, to reach for something already at my fingertips. It sounded suspiciously like my mother. But even she was getting drowned out by the sheer presence of Sean Murphy.
His touch wasn’t demanding; his kisses weren’t greedy. He was letting me choose. I looked up at him, breath uneven, my heart hammering with more than just nerves.
“I-I want to be with you tonight,” I whispered.
My voice caught as my neck burned.
He held my gaze, breath uneven, eyes darkened, hair tousled. “You sure?” he asked, voice throaty, trying not to hope too hard.
The way he looked at me, the way he treated me so preciously, the way he listened, the way he waited… All of it broke me open in the best way. He was my safe space, my champion, and soon, my husband.
Pinch me again.
“Yes,” I said, steadier. “Yes.”
He pressed an open-mouth kiss below my collarbone, and removed his shirt, and from there the world blurred.
When we stilled, bodies tangled with something deeper than either of us had words for, he gathered me close, kissed my temple, and whispered, “Still yes?”
