Page 70 of The Dragon’s Good Girl

I look around once more before turning back to him. “I love you.”

Soren goes completely still.

For someone who told me the same thing in my apartment with terrifying confidence, he looks unprepared to hear it back.

“I’ve been trying to work out why it scared me so much when you said it,” I continue, because if I stop now I might not have the courage to continue. “I think I’m still getting used to the idea that you can love me just because you do. I’m probably going to be bad at believing it for a while.”

“But I know I love you. And being your mate still scares the hell out of me, because forever means something very different when you’re six hundred years old and nowhere near done.”

The corner of his mouth moves.

Soren crosses the space between us and cups my face in his hands. His palms are warm against my cheeks, and for a moment he just looks at me.

“You’re enough,” he says quietly.

My eyes burn, which is super inconvenient because I have one more thing to tell him and I’d prefer to do it without crying.

“I quit my job.”

His expression changes instantly. “You what?”

“Today. Richard dumped another impossible deadline on my desk, called me Margie for the ten thousandth time, and that was the moment nine years of patience finally gave up.”

“Are you all right?”

“I think so.” A laugh slips out. “Ask me again when I remember I no longer receive a salary.”

His reaction is immediate, the dragon showing in the flash of gold in his eyes, the slight tightening of his hands against my face and the sudden rush of heat from his skin.

“You will never have to worry about money.”

I almost smile. Of course that’s where he goes.

“Soren.”

“Whatever you need while you decide what comes next, I can provide it. You don’t have to rush into another job or worry about—”

I put my hand against his chest.

He stops.

“I love that your first instinct is to take care of me. I mean that.” I look up at him. “But I just walked away from a life I didn’t choose, and I need some time to work out what I actually want before I build another one.”

His expression shifts as he understands.

“I need to figure out what comes next for myself,” I say, curling my fingers into his shirt. “That doesn’t mean I want to do it without you.”

For a moment he says nothing.

“I don’t know what my next job looks like or what I’m going to want six months from now. I’ll probably make some terrible decisions while I work it out.” I smile a little. “You can tell me they’re terrible and I’ll reserve the right to ignore you.”

“I suspect you’ll exercise that right frequently.”

His hand slides from my cheek to the side of my neck, warm and steady.

Soren watches me for a moment, then nods. “All right, Angel.”

The relief that moves through me is almost embarrassing.