It felt like time rolled to a stop as we held on to each other in the aftermath of it all.
Finally, Hunter raised his head and we locked eyes. Disheveled hair. Clammy skin. Uneven breaths. We were a perfect mess.
“That was…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I have no words.”
I gave him a lopsided smile. “I know. Want to do it again?”
He puffed out a low chuckle. “Anything you want, Gabby.”
“You’re such a good boyfriend.” I grinned, fingering the ends of his hair. “Always spoiling me.”
“I would do anything for you, Gabriela,” Hunter confessed, gazing into my eyes with so much love. “You’re my everything.” He kissed my lips. “Forever.”
My everything forever.
Tears pricked my eyes and slowly streamed down my face. Hunter tenderly brushed them away with his mouth, hugging me closer to his chest.
“Thank you for cherishing and protecting me.” I pressed a kiss to his wound, over the bandage on his bicep. “Thank you for seeing me four hundred and eighty days ago…and not giving up.”
Hunter’s mouth pulled into a heart-stopping smile and he whispered, “I love you, Gabriela.”
“And I love you, Hunter.”
Then my handsome prince proceeded to lay four hundred and eighty kisses all over my body to mark every day since he first saw me.
CHAPTER 47
Unexpected Turn Of Events
Gabriela
The entire weekend with Hunter was nothing short of bliss.
If we weren’t cooking courtesy of the fully stocked kitchen, watching old movies from the Warrens’ impressive DVD and VHS collection, or hanging out with Luna, Hunter and I were wrapped in each other’s arms, making love until the early hours of the morning.
I would never forget the feeling of his stubble rasping against my skin, the feeling of his intoxicating kisses, and the feeling of the honeyed words he fanned over my flesh.
“I love you. I love you. I love you,”he whispered endlessly in my ear, day and night, like the sweetest of lullabies, and I held on to him like I was afraid he was a mirage that would disappear—like he was a dream that was far from everlasting and I would wake up any moment, wishing I’d stayed asleep instead.
Hunter had unravelled me. Peeled back all my layers, glanced at my center, plucked the essence of my soul and shaped it in a way where he could tuck it in the space next to his own. All my walls were down, my defenses broken, and yet I’d never felt safer. Or adored, cherished, and worshipped like the very goddess he claimed I was.
By the time Monday morning rolled around, a permanent smile was carved on my face.
Somewhere between sunset and sunrise, I had decided that I was going to marry Hunter Saint Warren in this decade. It was inevitable. He was my person. The other half of me. Might as well put a 24-karat gold band on his finger and make him my husband.
“How long did you say you’ll be gone?” Hunter asked, leaning against the hallway wall and watching me with softness as I put my shoes on.
I smiled. “I already told you.”
“Remind me again.”
We weren’t gone yet and he already stared at Luna and me like he missed us. “Three hours. Long enough for me to pacify the women in my family. Then I’ll come running back to you.”
Mamma and Nonna were in shambles when Papà delivered the news about the attack on Friday night. They knew I was staying at Hunter’s home this weekend, protected by him and a brigade of guards. Saturday and Sunday, we had two phone calls and they spent most of it crying. Mamma said she didn’t spend eighteen hours in labour to give birth, only for me to be living elsewhere during one of the scariest times of my life. And Nonna said that since I refused to come back to my childhood home in the West Side, she was coming over here to camp in the courtyard with her cane and rifle, in case the attacker returned. She didn’t trust the guards to get the job done and stated that she was a better shot than all of them—which, to her credit, wasn’t a lie since Nonna was a badass. Both women also spent a long time showering Hunter with love and thank-yous, grateful that he protected me but still upset that he got hurt in the process.
“Promise?” Hunter uncrossed his arms and pushed off the wall, advancing towards me.
He was bare-chested and in low-slung black pyjama pants. We’d woken up an hour ago and all I wanted was to get back in bed with my warm, sleepy, pretty boy.
