Heart beating like a drum, I…stare. In awe. Ofhim.
His thumb traces my bottom lip. “I’ll eat everything you made for me.” His fingers find the tie holding the neckline of my frilled Autumn blouse on my shoulders; he looses it. “I don’t want you to think for a moment I don’t appreciate how much time and care went into it.” He pulls the fabric of my shirt down my shoulder, revealing the skin and my bra strap. “I just have no self control…”
We’ve been sharing a bed for seasons. I’m going to say we haveimpeccableself control.
Truly…truly…remarkable self control.
His swear undoes me as he runs a fingertip over the freckles sprinkled on my shoulders like stardust. “I think…” He leans in for a kiss, a taste, and I sag into him, helpless. “I have a thing for your shoulders, too.” He nuzzles, smiling against me. “They’re sugared…like your cheeks.” His warm breath heats my flesh to a boil. “You’re so beautiful, Samantha.”
While I’m attempting to recover my breath in the wake of mygovernment name, Samson wraps his arms around me and holds on tight. My lips skim the scar on his neck when I give in, completely at his mercy.
“When are we getting married?” he asks.
“Winter. I want snow.”
His arms tighten. “That’s perfect. Iced lemonade.”
I laugh.
“Should we stop sharing a bed until then?”
I kiss his scar. “I mean, we could. If you want me to die.”
He hums. “I don’t want that. I want to know if you’re sugared everywhere…” He kisses. “Is that okay?”
I am very okay with that. “We can find out together on our wedding night?”
“Together?”
I wet my lips, against his skin, accidentally. His embrace solidifies, so I whisper an apology. “I’ve only lived in this body for a few seasons, so I don’t quite know it very well.”
“Ah. I see. That makes sense.” He exhales, so peacefully. “It will be an honor to learn you, Citrus.”
Yeah.
I think… I think it will be an honor to learn myself, too.
Right here, in Gem Ridge, where Ibelong.
Epilogue
♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥
What’s a “wedding cutscene”?
Samson
Citrus wanted snow. On an island.
I just want her.
The past few weeks have been little more than a series ofyes, dears.
Shoulders, can we have the fifteen-layer cake? Chrysa convinced me.
Samson, is it okay if I wear my sword with my wedding dress?
Darling, do wehaveto invite Austin?
