“If you’re willing to look at the books, I would appreciate it. But not now. It’s late, and you need to get some sleep.”
I lift her into my arms and stand. She shocks me when she wraps her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck, enveloping me in her delicious heat.
I carry her toward the guest room, but before I step inside, she shakes her head.
“I think I’d rather sleep in our room,” she whispers, “if that’s okay. I sleep better in there with you.”
“You’re always welcome in our room.”
I lay her on her side of the bed, and after using the bathroom and brushing my teeth, I join her. When I get under the covers, she glances at me like she wants to move into her usual position with her head on my chest and her leg slung over mine.
“C’mere, Princess.”
“I feel like I’m leading you on.” She bites the corner of her bottom lip nervously.
“You’re not,” I assure her, even if her ending up in our bed givesme hope. “I know the score. You need time. But how am I supposed to convince you to stay married to me if you keep your distance?”
I lift the blanket as a silent invitation, and she edges over to me. She nestles her face into the crook of my shoulder and swings her creamy bare leg over mine.
I run my fingers up and down her back, and within minutes, she’s softly snoring in my arms, right where she belongs. Now, I just need to make her see that …
Her left hand is resting on my chest, and I can’t help but notice her bare ring finger.
“… the ring would symbolize that love.”
Careful not to jostle Brielle, I reach into my nightstand and pull out the box that I placed in there a couple of weeks ago.
I told her it would be her choice, and it is, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to do everything in my power to convince her that the right choice is me.
35
Brielle
I toldmyself I would remain strong, that I wouldn’t let Kane back in until I knew I was making the right choice. I even accepted that there was a chance we might not end up together. But not even a few hours and one nightmare later, and I was back in the comfort of his arms.
Not that it should surprise me. The man forced me to marry him to avenge his father’s death. And I still fell for him.
But I can’t help thinking about what he told me when he found me in Russia—he had drawn up the divorce papers because he wanted to give me a choice. That shouldn’t be romantic, but it is.
Jesus, I’m fucked up.
And he didn’t give me the placebo pills. I found the bag and took them myself.
That has to count for something, right?
Yep, I’m fucked up.
Oh, and when I returned home, thinking I was going to spend the next couple of months cleaning up and renovating my Pilates studio, I found out that Kane had already handled everything. And he followed my plans to a T.
It’s probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.
Yeah, I know. I’m fucked up. We’ve already established that.
“I know you’re awake,” Kane murmurs, and even though my eyes are still closed, I can hear the humor in his tone.
“Don’t overthink it,” he says, his hand running down my back. “You had a nightmare, and we slept in the same bed together. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
Except that it does. It means everything.
