“Madeline…”
I hum, brushing my forehead over his.
“I love you. I love you so fucking much.”
For a second, I can’t breathe. Instead of saying the words back, my palm flattens over his heart, needing to feel it beating for me. Like I need proof that this is real and not something my mind made up because I want it so badly. His skin is warm beneath my hand, his heartbeat steady and strong. The words he just said seep into me everywhere—down my spine, then down to my toes and up to my heart, echoing in places I didn’t know could feel this alive.
“I love you,” he says again
“I love you too, Jesse.”
His lips tip up in a smile. “You do?”
I nod, my throat tight, emotion blooming behind my ribcage. “I do.” A small, shaky smile curves my mouth. “I’ve known for a while. I just wasn’t brave enough to say it.”
He moves without warning, rolling us so my back presses into the mattress. He positions his body on top of mine, his weight on his knees and his hand pressed into the mattress next to my jaw. One hand gropes my breast as his dark eyes look down at me, a little in awe.God, I love his hands on me.
“Tell me again, Mads.”
“I love you, Jesse.”
His soft gaze is replaced by something hungrier, like hearing me say it only makes him want me closer, deeper,forever. “I wasn’t expecting you to say it back. But it didn’t matter to me. I just needed you to know.”
I trace his lips with my thumb, struck by how gentle he is behind all his strength. He has an achingly beautiful heart…and it’s mine.
“I’m glad you told me.”
He dips his head, his mouth stopping a mere inch away from mine. “Now you know,” he murmurs before a slow, searing kiss. “No guessing. I’m not built to love halfway, Mads. I’m going to love you forever.”
I believe every word, knowing it’s true. Jesse doesn’t love in pieces. He shows up for the people in his life, and he stays. His brothers, his mom, his dad. He doesn’t abandon people just because it hurts or it’s complicated. When Jesse loves you, it’s not temporary. When you’re his, you’re his. That is Jesse Winters to his core.
“I know, baby. I’m yours.”
He kisses me again, his tongue slipping into my mouth to find mine. The thrill of shivers that skate over my body have me begging for more. As if he knows what I need, Jesse lowers his chest to mine, settling his body between my thighs. I let out a sigh when he pushes his hard length against me. I bite back a moan. Every part of me yearns for him.
“Let me love you.”
“You don’t need permission. I thought I just told you, Jess, I’m yours.”
It’s a dangerous thing to say to Jesse Winters.
SOMETIME IN THESPRING
I tugat the hem of my Cove knit for the fourth time in thirty seconds and immediately regret it. I’m going to wrinkle it.I’m going to sweat through it. I’m going to pass out on live video and become a cautionary tale in PR meetings—just like Marco and his beach photos.
Jesse, on the other hand, looks utterly at ease. He stands beside me in one of Cove’s tailored jackets, hands in his pockets, calm radiating off him like it’s his natural state—which, infuriatingly, it is.
He glances down at me and lifts a brow. “You’re doing the thing,” he murmurs.
“What thing?” I whisper back.
“The one where you’re convinced this is the moment everyone realizes you’re secretly terrible at your job.”
I open my mouth to argue, then close it again. “Okay, rude. But unfortunately, accurate. I think I’m going to be sick.” Shit.
Press badges flash everywhere I look. Cove banners hang behind the stage, the name of the company’s newest line embossed in matte lettering.
“Do you need me to take you to the restroom?”
