“I mean—”
“The answer is yes, I’d love to move in with you both. As long as Finn is okay with it.”
“I’m sure he will be but, of course, I will ask.”
He smiled. “Let’s get his approval and go from there. But, for the record? I’d live in a broom closet if it meant being closer to you.”
I laughed and batted at the rogue tears streaking down my cheeks. “You mean that?”
Andre squeezed my hand, his smile soft and sure. “I mean it. You and Finn—you’re home to me. Always.”
The knot inside me loosened at last. For the first time in years, I believed exactly what he was telling me. I believed him. I believeinhim. And in us.
I leaned closer, resting my forehead against his. The knot in my chest had been replaced by something warmer, steadier—something that felt terrifying in its own way.
Andre brushed a strand of hair from my cheek, his thumb lingering at the corner of my jaw.
“You don’t have to doubt me,” he murmured.
“I know.”
Then I kissed him. It wasn’t tentative this time, not the cautious affection I sometimes allowed myself. It was fierce, urgent, as though every unsaid word had been waiting for this moment to pour out of my mouth. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight, and I melted into him, relishing the taste of his breath, the warmth of his mouth, the strength of his body against mine.
When we finally broke apart, both breathless, Andre let out a low chuckle that was half-groan. He pressed his forehead to mine again. “You know… I’m okay with a little pain if it means I get to hold you like this.”
I kissed him again, slower this time, and his hand slipped to the small of my back, pulling me closer. I yipped slightly when he touched my bandages.
“You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted. “Imani saw to that.” He looked at me, and I shook my head. “No fussing over me,” I finished in my best British accent that wasn’t very good.
He laughed.
Then he dragged me closer, clutching me harder, while being careful to avoid my back. Pressed this close, I could feel magicin his hands, the love in his heart. And it was mine. All of it. All of him. I felt it like truth carved into the marrow of my being. We were soulmates, hopelessly tangled in the red string of fate. I knew what he wanted. Could feel it like the truth that it was. Pain. Pleasure. The urge to be held tight. To be loved.
But it was more than that. And the expression was there in his eyes. He wanted me physically.
“I want you too,” I said softly. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”
“You can’t hurt me, Poppy.”
I leaned into him, pressing him gently down into the pillows. His breath caught when my legs settled around his waist.
“Fine,” I admitted. “But I maintain my earlier statement.”
“Which one?”
“You don’t have to fend for yourself. Not when I’m here.”
“Oh, that one.”
I leaned in to kiss him. Slow. Languorous. Possessive. He groaned into my mouth.
“Bloody hell, Poppy. I love you.”
I leaned in to nip his ear. “Prove it.”
Chapter Seventeen
