My smile stretches so wide my cheeks ache.
And then—J.T.moves in behind me.
He’s not subtle.But he is smooth.
Big.Solid.Certain.
He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me back against him like he has every right to.
And I think he might be the only man who’s ever really had that right.
For a second, I can’t breathe.
Because this—this quiet domestic moment—feels almost too precious to touch.
“I can’t believe this is real,” I murmur.
“Believe it, Honey.”
I blink.“Shit, did I say that out loud?”
He grunts in amusement and nuzzles my neck, hips flexing just enough to remind me exactly what kind of man is holding me.
I shiver.
“Was dinner okay?”he asks.
“Okay?”I turn in his arms, hands landing on his chest.“J.T., if I didn’t already know you’re outrageously good in bed, I might’ve said yes to marrying you for your cooking alone.”
His eyes darken, slow and wicked.
“Is that so?”
“That is so.”
He tickles my side just enough to make me yelp and laugh before he dips down and kisses my neck.
When I spin fully into him, he leans in, brushing a soft kiss across my cheek.
“I want to do so much more than this, Honey,” he murmurs.
“Mm.Me too,” I admit, pulse quickening.“Soon.”
And I mean it.
Because this weekend, we start moving in.
Moving in.
The words still feel surreal.
I’m nervous.
Terrified, even.
But I’m also tickled pink.
Because this time, it feels chosen.
