I propped myself up on one elbow to keep my weight off her and gently ran my fingers through her hair. “How did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Make me fall in love with you.”
Surprise registered in her eyes. “You… you love me?”
“Yeah. I mean, I told you already in Seattle.”
“No, you didn’t. You told me I was your world, but not that you were in love with me.”
This woman. What a fucking catch. “And what did you think that meant, Spitfire?”
“I don’t know.” She ran her hands over my chest. “Not that.”
“Y’know, for a smart woman…” I laughed.
“I just…” She pulled me down for a kiss. “You know I love you, too, right?”
My heart doubled in size. “No, but I do now.”
Wrapping her arms around my neck, she thrust out her chest. “I want to hear you tell me you love me when you’re inside me.”
“I got you, Spitfire.”
I undressed her slowly, savoring every hitched breath, every graze of her eyes over my body, every touch she graced me with. We’d fucked dozens of times in the last week, but this felt different.Wasdifferent. There was no frantic pulling of hair or clothes, no scratching or biting. Just two people who’dsomehow found one another in a world of eight billion people and discovered the other half of themselves.
Our gazes locked, her words of love still echoing in my chest. Her body fused to mine, and I mapped every inch of her with my eyes and my hands and my mouth, committing each dip, each soft curve, to memory. I pushed inside her, inch by inch. It felt different now. Our confessions had changed the dynamic, making it deeper, more meaningful. I’d never made love to a woman, but I was making love to one now.
My woman.
I buried my face in the warm curve of her neck, breathing her in. Her fingers dove into my hair, grounding me in this moment. Every thrust was a vow, every kiss a promise.I love you. I’m yours, and you’re mine, and we’re going nowhere unless it’s with each other.
When her release came, it wasn’t with a scream but with a quiet sigh, the look in her eyes connecting us on a different level. Trust, love, respect. The kind of look that gutted me and simultaneously stitched me back together.
“I love you.” I came with her name on my lips, and when it was over, I didn’t let her go. I couldn’t. Loving Aspen wasn’t about words. It was about living, breathing, drowning in a woman I knew I didn’t deserve, yet she’d somehow found me worthy of her.
I made a silent vow to never let her down, to always put her first. To love her for the rest of my life.
“Can I meet your mom and sister when we’re next in London?”
I plucked Aspen’s bag from her hands and slung mine over my shoulder. “I guess you should, since you’ve pushed them down the list of important people in my life.”
A soft smile teased the corners of her lips as she locked up the lodge and slid the key into her pocket. “And I thought music was your first love.”
I tossed the bags in the back of the rental, slammed the boot, then grabbed my woman by the hips, pulling her flush to my body. “It was once. But it pales compared to the love I have for you.”
“You’re saying all the right things,” she murmured.
“Good. Get used to it, because I’ll be saying more things like that for years to come.”
“Even when I’m old and gray and my knees give out and you can’t rail me from behind anymore?”
“Even then. Besides, it’s probably my knees that will give out first.” I opened the passenger door, but Aspen paused, cocking her head.
“Is that the phone?”
I listened, then nodded. “Sounds like it. Want to go back inside and get it?”
