Page 73 of Break Me

I kiss her again, slower this time, savoring instead of rushing. I let myself feel the warmth of her, the quiet certainty of her, the way she trusts me without holding anything back.

When I draw back, it's only enough to look at her. Her eyes find mine. Her breathing has changed, and every soft sound she makes settles somewhere deep inside me. I don't think I'll ever stop being humbled by the fact that she looks at me like this.

We find each other without a word, moving with an ease that has nothing to do with instinct and everything to do with love. She stays with me through every breath, every heartbeat, every quiet pause, and I realize this isn't about losing ourselves.

It's about finding our way back.

As the last of the tension fades, I hold her against me, reluctant to loosen my grip. Raven buries her face against my neck, her breathing gradually settling until it matches mine. For a little while, neither of us says a word.

Afterward, we stay tangled together, skin warm, limbs heavy. I don't move. I don't want to be the one to break the silence we've found.

Raven curls closer, her fingers tracing absent circles against my chest. I kiss the top of her head, then her temple, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. If I could stop time, I'd stop it here—with her in my arms, the rest of the world held safely outside these walls.

For one impossible moment, I let myself believe we've outrun it all.

Samuel

Raven steps into the kitchen wearing one of my T-shirts, the oversized fabric swallowing her tiny frame. The coffee machine purrs to life, and the plates from lunch sit in the sink. While she waits, she props a hip against the counter.

I’m halfway through a sip when she says, “Why are we waiting?”

I lower my mug, buying myself a second. “Waiting for what?”

She studies me for a moment, her expression quiet and contemplative. As though she's been turning the words over in her head, waiting for the right moment to say them.

“To get married,” she finally says.

I stare at her for a beat, my brain scrambling to catch up. “Raven,” I say carefully, “I’m not saying I don’t want that.” I meet her eyes. “I just don’t want to take anything away from you.”

Her brow furrows slightly. “Take what away?”

“A wedding,” I say. “The whole thing. A dress. Rings. All of it. You deserve to have it all. I don’t want you looking back and thinking we rushed this.”

She sets her now full mug on the table and steps close enough that my objections start losing their footing.

“I don’t want a big production,” she says quietly. “I don’t want to plan something for months just so it looks right to other people.” She reaches for my hand, threading her fingers through mine. “I want to be married to you.”

I swallow. “We don’t even have rings.”

She smiles small and sure. “Then we’ll get them later. Or we won’t. That isn’t the point.”

I search her face for doubt. For hesitation. For any sign of second thoughts that would tell me to slow this down.

“Are you sure?” I ask quietly. “Not about me. About doing it this way.”

“Yes.” She doesn’t hesitate. “I don’t want to wait. I want to be your wife, now.”

I think about probation. About Ridgeback, and Knox, and the fact that I’ve already crossed every line that mattered. And about how I want this woman more than life itself.

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s do it.”

Her smile widens. “Today?”

I nod once. “Today.”

She looks down at what she’s wearing.

“Do you mind bringing me back to my house first?” she asks. “I have the perfect dress.”