The pause stretches. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. “Something I picked out,” he adds quietly. Then cuts himself off, like the rest is too dangerous to say.
The back of my neck prickles. Every inch of me feels warm and too tight.
I move before I think. I step into him, wrapping my arms around his solid frame. My breasts press his arm, a sweet, tormenting ache.
His breath stutters. One hand finds my waist, anchoring me, the other covering my hand on the box. I lift up and kiss his cheek, soft and lingering. But as I start to pull back, he turns suddenly.
My mouth lands at the corner of his. We freeze.
The brush of skin-on-skin is electric. My lips tingle, my breasts ache, his fingers dig into my waist like he might brand me there.
I hope he does. I want to carry the shape of his touch.
I tremble and whisper against his skin. “Thank you, Nathan.” His name lingers on my lips, an entreaty and an invocation. “No one’s ever made me feel so seen.”
His eyes lock on mine. Silver, fierce. Hungry. His breath is hot against my lips. I move my hand to his shoulder and drag my mouth down his jaw. “No one’s ever made me feel so…”
A sound in the garage startles us, breaking the moment. “I’ll cherish it. Always.”
His expression doesn’t change, but his grip tightens. His fingers dig into my hip, almost painfully, but I don’t flinch. I like the ache as much as the pleasure suffusing me.
Finally, he exhales. Gently eases me back and opens the passenger door.
I slide in, sinking into buttery leather that smells like him—spice, cool air, restraint.
My fingers curl around the necklace.
My heart is full.
My body aflame.
Chapter 6
Nathan
The drive and the ferry crossing were quiet, uneventful. At least on the surface.
In my head, I haven’t stopped replaying the moment Jasmine leaned in—the warmth of her chest pressed to my arm, the faint sweetness of her skin, the brush of her lips at the corner of my mouth.
One inch. That’s all it would’ve taken.
But I didn’t move.
I stood still like a coward, half-hard and thunderstruck, letting her step back and thank me. The painful erection the entire drive over, the filthy thoughts of pulling that dress up and taking her apart—I’m no gentleman.
And now I’m walking through a crowded reception hall, strangers everywhere, with the shape of her soft curves still stamped on me like a brand.
The banquet hall is elegant but loud—strings of light overhead, rows of white-clothed tables crowded with flowers, wineglasses, and happy chaos.
Someone’s aunt makes a toast. A toddler shrieks near the cake table. Jazz is on the dance floor, caught in her cousin’s arms, spinning and flushed, her smile wide and unguarded.
I can’t stop watching her. Can’t stop thinking how, for all these people who love her, she gives so much of herself to Sophie.
No—not just Sophie. To me too.
It’s not that I assumed she was completely alone in the world.
I knew her cousin urged her to move closer, but she didn’t have a room to offer Jasmine immediately after her mom died. And I didn’t realize until now that Jasmine chose us over these people. The realization cracks something open in my chest.
