“Oh, baby…” Skip murmurs, voice roughening as he reaches for me. His thumb sweeps across my cheek, trying and failing to catch every tear. “That’s not possible. Not now. Not ever.Because I could never love someone else when you already own my fucking heart.”
His hand cups my jaw, steady and warm. “If you left, you’d be taking it with you.”
“You…” My voice cracks. “You love me?”
Skip doesn’t even blink. “So fucking much it terrifies me,” he confesses. “So much that I’m afraid it’s too much… too fast… for you to believe it yet.”
My chest tightens. I swallow hard.
“I’ve never loved someone before,” I whisper. “But I think… what I feel for you might be love. How do I know, Skip?”
A soft smile curves his lips…gentle, reverent, unlike any expression I’ve ever seen from him.
Leaning in, he kisses me gently.
Not hungry. Not demanding.
Justsoft.
Soft enough to break me and stitch me back together in the same breath.
When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.
“You’ll know,” he murmurs, voice quiet and unbearably tender, “because when I walk in the room… your whole world shifts. Your body reacts before your mind catches up.”
A slow smile touches his lips. “Hell, half the time you faint just because I breathe too close.”
I let out a shaky laugh.
“That’s not love,” I whisper, cheeks warm. “That’s faulty wiring.”
“It’s love,” he counters, thumb brushing the wetness from my cheek. “Because even when you’re scared… even when you’re overwhelmed… you still reach for me.”
I swallow hard.
“You let me protect you,” he says. “You argue with me. You sass me. You glow when I talk to you. You fall asleep on me like you’ve been doing it your whole damn life.”
His hand slips behind my neck, warm and steady.
“And baby… I’ve never had someone look at me the way you do.”
The room tilts…just a little…but not from panic.
From him.
Skip presses another kiss to my lips, lingering, sweet, devastating.
“That’s how you know,” he whispers against my mouth. “Because losing you scares me more than war. Because loving you feels like breathing for the first time in years. Because every time you look at me…” His forehead rests on mine. “…it feels like coming home.”
My throat tightens, heat spreading across my cheeks. “And what would you say if I felt those things too?”
His smile is soft. “I’d be the luckiest bastard in the world. So, tell me, baby… do you? Do you love me?”
I swallow hard, fighting past the fear, past the voice in my head telling me men like him don’t choose men like me. But he’s here. Holding me. Loving me.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I reckon I do love you.”
“Fuck yeah,” he breathes, grinning against my lips. “Now kiss me, pretty boy. Kiss that man you love.”
