“Of what?” He caught her hand and held it against his stubbled cheek.
“Of trusting this.” She gestured between them with her free hand, a small, helpless motion. “Of letting myself believe it’s real.”
“It’s real.” He turned his head again, pressing another kiss to her palm. “I will prove it. Every day. For as long as you let me.”
She stared at him, her heart cracking open. “You mean that.”
“I have never meant anything more.” He pulled her hand to his chest, pressing it against the steady beat of his heart.
“Dominic.” She started, her breath hitching as tears threatened again.
“Say it again.” He pulled her closer, his hand sliding to the back of her neck to anchor her. “I want to hear it again.”
“I love you.” She leaned into him, her forehead pressing against his. “I love you.”
“Again.” He breathed the word against her lips.
“I love you.” She laughed, the sound wet and broken and free, her fingers threading through his dark hair. “I love you, I love you, I love...”
He kissed her, swallowing the words right out of her mouth. His lips were desperate against hers, his hand tangling in her hair to hold her steady. She gasped against his mouth, pulling back just enough to speak, her hands braced on his shoulders.
“Dominic, you are hurt.” Her hands hovered over him, shaking.
“I don’t care.” He tried to pull her closer, wincing at the movement, his grip tightening on her waist.
“You will hurt yourself.” She held him down to the pillows, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
“Then hurt me.” His hands found her waist, large and warm through the fabric of her dress. “I need you. Please. I need...”
“Dominic.” She tried to protest, even as her body leaned toward the heat of him.
“I almost died.” The admission broke in the back of his throat, raw and jagged, his iron eyes dark with an unmasked hunger. “I almost died, and all I could think about was you. Your face. The memory of you. The way you taste.”
“We shouldn’t.” She shook her head, even as her fingers curled into the linen of his shirt, grounding herself to him.
“I need to feel you.” He pulled back just enough to look at her, his chest heaving the way he’d just run a mile. “I need to know you are real. That this is real. That I am not dreaming.”
She should say no. He was injured and weak, and he needed rest, not the fire of this moment. But the way he looked at her—as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to the world—decided it.
“Please.” He exhaled the word against her lips, his hand cupping her cheek with a reverence that made her heart stall.
She kissed him, her mouth providing the answer he sought. He groaned against her lips—a sound of profound relief and desperate want—his hands pulling her closer.
“Slowly.” The instruction was a soft breath against his mouth, her fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. “We do this slowly. Carefully.”
“I don’t want careful.” He nipped at her lower lip, his hands sliding down her back to the small of her spine, pulling her flush against him.
“You are getting careful.” She pulled back and met his eyes, letting him see the steel behind the softness. “Or you are getting nothing.”
He laughed—a surprised, breathless sound that made his chest shake beneath her palm. “Stubborn woman.”
“You love it.” She traced a finger along his collarbone, feeling the fevered heat of his skin.
“I do.” He reached for her, his fingers catching the fabric of her sleeve. “God help me, I do.”
She rose from the bed, but his hand caught her wrist instantly, his grip tight with a sudden, sharp desperation.
“Don’t go.” He searched her face, panic flickering in the depths of his pupils.
