He exhales sharply, not angry—just intent.
“Kelly, listen to me.When I say I want you, I mean it.When I say marry me, I mean it.”
He tilts my face up to his with two fingers on my chin.So sure.So confident.So strong.
I want to stay right there safe inside the shadow of his strength.
“Do you really think I’ve waited years,” he says quietly, “for a chance to have you, just to lose interest after one night?”
Years.
The word lands deep.
“You really…?”I trail off.
“Yeah,” he says simply.“I really.”
There’s no bravado in it.No swagger.
Just certainty.
“And for the record,” he adds, brushing his thumb along my jaw, “I didn’t ‘win’ anything last night.I didn’t find you by accident.I chose you.And you chose me, too.That’s different.”
My throat tightens.
“That’s kind of sweet,” I murmur.
“I can be sweet,” he says dryly.“Don’t spread it around, though.I’ve got a reputation.”
I laugh softly, tension easing just a little.
“Kelly,” he continues, voice turning warm again, indulgent, and honest, “I don’t get swept up.I don’t make proposals I don’t mean.And I sure as hell don’t invite a woman into my bed and my life unless I’m prepared to keep her there.”
My heart stutters.
“You’re very intense,” I whisper.
“Only about things that matter.”
“Are you saying I matter?”
He doesn’t hesitate.
“You matter.”
The simplicity of it almost undoes me.
I study his face, searching for cracks.
There aren’t any.
“Okay,” I breathe.
“Okay?”he echoes.
“I’m still scared,” I admit.“But… okay.”
His mouth curves, not cocky—just pleased.
