"Starting with that promise you made in the kitchen."
I let her pull me. Match her grin with one of my own.
"I always keep my promises."
And I do.
But the one I want to make now —the one sitting in my chest like a fist—isn't something I can say out loud.
Not yet.
Not when she's finally free to choose what she wants.
Because the next promise I make her—is my heart.
And I need her to reach for that on her own terms.
Chapter 15
The Bride’s Gambit
January 30 | Day 7 Anguilla PM | T–1
Jane
His mouth is on my collarbone, and I've forgotten every language I've ever spoken.
Which is only one. But still.
West's hand is splayed across my stomach, thumb drawing lazy circles that keep dipping lower, and his lips trace a path from my shoulder to the hollow of my throat.
I tilt my head up to look at him. He's got that satisfied expression—smug doesn't quite cover it. This is territorial. Possessive.
And annoyingly attractive.
"Don't look at me like that," I say.
"Like what?"
"Like you're proud of yourself."
"I am proud of myself."
"Cocky."
"Also accurate." He shifts beneath me, rolling so I'm suddenly on my back and he's leaning over me, forearms bracketing my head. "You made sounds I'm going to be replaying for the rest of my life."
"West—"
"Specifically, that thing you did when I—"
I slap my hand over his mouth. "We arenotcataloging."
He grins against my palm.Licks it.
I yelp. He laughs.
"I hate you."
