His expression grew serious again. “I’ve never allowed myself to get attached to anyone, Zellie. Not until you. What else can I say to convince you that my heart is yours? What else do you want to know?”
I sighed. “I’ve always told myself I couldn’t marry anyone who had done something unforgivable. My mother…some of the men she was with…”
“What do you consider unforgivable?” he asked, his tone grave. When I didn’t immediately answer, he gathered me close. “Zellie, I’ve told you before, I’m no saint. No one is. But I would never harm you or Henry. I would never harm anyone who didn’t threaten me or the ones I love. But knowthis—I wouldburn this world downto protect you, rip the heart out ofanyonewho threatened you. And I wouldn’t regret it for a second.”
I pulled back to study his face, my heart pounding, overwhelmed by what I saw in his eyes. Fierce devotion. Genuine, unshakable love. “Ask me again.”
“Zellie,” Whit said, his handsome face breaking into a bright, boyish grin, “will you marry me?”
Laughing through tears, I nodded. “Yes. I’ll marry you, Whit.”
When we arrived at Dawes House, we strolled up the walk hand in hand, exhausted but exhilarated. I carried my shoes so I wouldn’t make too much noise on the foyer tile and wake anyone, but June still met us at the door of her apartment before I even had the chance to knock.
“Looks like y’all had a fun night,” she drawled, looking pointedly at Whit. Then she offered me a sweet smile. “Zellie, darlin’ you go on and get some sleep. No sense waking up Henry just to carry him up to bed. You can come collect him in the morning.”
“Oh, Ms. June, are you sure?” I whispered. “I feel like you already do so much for us.”
She briefly pressed my hand. “We’re family, darlin’. It’s no trouble. Now, go on. I need to get back to my own beauty sleep.”
When we reached my apartment, Whit seemed oddly awkward. “Will you be okay here by yourself? After everything you shared, I hate to leave you alone.”
I nodded. “I’ve been by myself this long. But I’d feel much better if you stayed.”
“Then I will,” he said without hesitation.
“Besides,” I said, grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer, “the night you first kissed me, I believe we agreed to spend more time in bed together. And now that I’ve had you, I don’t think I can get enough of you.”
Whit’s eyes went darker instantly, his own desire clearly matching mine. He grasped me around the waist, lifting me off my feet, and kicked the apartment door closed. His mouth crashed down on mine, his kiss savage, hungry, as he walked me backward until we bumped against the couch. He set me down on my feet and grasped the fabric of my dress, roughly pulling it up over my hips.
Then he was down on his knees, sliding my panties off. Before I could even register what he had in mind, his mouth found the center of me, pressing into me as if he was sampling the sweetest nectar. He groaned as his tongue caressed me, making me moan and writhe against the electrifying onslaught of sensation. I gripped the back of the couch, my legs shaking as a fire blazed inside me. Suddenly, it exploded, and I cried out, not bothering to hold back, shuddering again as he drove me through my release. Then he was on his feet again and spun me around, bending me over the back of the couch.
I gasped as he pressed into me, the fullness of him from this angle bringing a new round of ecstasy. He wasn’t gentle this time. He was rough, demanding. I pushed back against him, eagerly accepting each deep thrust, crying out in rhythm with the sound of flesh against flesh. And just when I didn’t think I could take any more, my muscles seized, that exhilarating heat lancing through my body once more.
Then, in a frenzy, we were tearing off the rest of our clothes, tossing them aside as we made our way toward my bedroom, pausing once for him to press me against the hallway wall, capture my mouth with another savage kiss as his fingers found the bundle of nerves that made me shudder again within seconds.
My muscles were still pulsing when he hooked an arm under my knee, lifting my leg enough to open me to him. I gripped his shoulders, needing to hold onto him to brace myself as every hard thrust rocked me.
“Oh, God,” I gasped as I felt my release building again. “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”
His pace increased, driving me over once more, then slowed, gentled, drawing out each thrust. And when he pulled back, I felt cold without his warmth filling me.
He braced a hand against the wall, his head down, visibly struggling.
I took his face in my hands and lifted it to accept my kisses—on his jaw, his chin, his lips. “We’re not finished here,” I murmured. “It’s your turn.”
“Zellie,” he breathed, when I pressed a kiss to the side of his neck, but when no other words followed, I took his hand and led him the rest of the way to my bedroom. Seconds later, we crashed down onto my bed, losing ourselves in one another again.
Later, as early morning sunlight seeped into the room, golden and amber, glinting off the mirror in brilliant, blinding bursts that cast gems of light on the wall, a line from a Robert Frost poem intruded on my happiness, reminding me that at some point everything loses its luster and falls apart.
Nothing gold can stay.
But as I fell asleep wrapped in Whit’s arms, flush with the warmth of his love, I refused to believe it.
Chapter twenty
Aharsh, wracking cough woke me. I recognized the sound even before I opened my eyes.
My mother stood beside my bed, scowling down at me, rage and disapproval distorting her features, her fists balled at her sides.
