Page 73 of Shatter

I'd never tell him this, but there's nothing I wouldn't do for this man. His thoughtfulness, his care, his natural protectiveness have built a loyalty in me that I've never felt for anyone but Parker.

I love this man. I love this man but then his words register. "If we don't work out..." He still thinks we might break up. I need to remedy that.

Before I can say anything, Harrison bends at the knees and scoops me up in a bridal hold. I squeal and kick my legs, as my hands wrap around his neck for support and steps beneath the spray.

We don't say a word to each other as we take turns washing each other's bodies. I run my hands all over the landscape of his scars, reveling that I'm the only woman he's ever allowed to touch him like this.

When we finish in the shower, and slide naked under his sheets, he pulls me close to him, holding me tightly.

Chapter thirty-eight

Harrison

She loves me.

Holy shit.

I don't know how to process this information. And I certainly don't know how to respond.

Saying it back to her in the moment felt cheap - like I'd only said it because she had. I didn't want to do that. She deserves better. She deserves a thoughtful confession, not something in the heat of the moment.

I knew we'd been building something between us, but I never had the audacity to think that I was anything more than temporary. Did I want more? Of course. Who wouldn't? Did I think it was realistic? Absolutely not.

Having her in my arms just feels right. That's all I know. Being able to be there for her while she reclaims her freedom? Addictive. Her smiles? The best kind of drug. Getting to be the lucky bastard who not only gets to touch her, make love to her, but be the center of her love? Unreal.

I'm not sure I've ever been this happy.

"Fuck, you're impossible to resist," I murmur, letting my lips trail over the soft skin of her scalp.

She tenses briefly and I'm about to apologize when she sits up in bed, turning to face me.

"Then don't."

"What?"

"Don't resist me. I want this, Harrison."

I raise an eyebrow in question. I know I teased about resisting her, but when have I ever? When could I ever? I'm not even sure I ever really tried, even in the beginning when I knew it was wrong.

She huffs out a frustrated breath.

"Harrison Bartholomew King," she scolds in exasperation. It's fucking adorable. I can't help the belly laughter that pours from me.

"Bartholomew?"

But she ignores me, frowning down at me and poking my chest with her finger. "You're going to be my boyfriend, and take me out on dates, and we're going to fall in love and get married and pop out a couple of kids because I see how great you are with kids and you deserve to have children of your own. Smart, beautiful, children. Because you're the best man I know. You're smart, and hardworking, and compassionate and loyal and protective and everything a man should be. You should teach other men how to be men. Because more men should be like you."

Her flustered rant kicks me straight in the chest. I'd never imagined she was thinking about a future between us. And apparently thinking about a forever future with us. Marriage? Babies?

Something that feels a lot like giddiness fills my chest as butterflies assault my stomach. Before she can react or resist, I spring forward, wrapping an arm around her waist and flipping us so that she's pinned beneath me.

Her beauty steals my breath away every time.

"Oh yeah?" I ask, a wicked grin gracing my lips. I dig my fingers into her ribs and wrestle her as she wiggles and fights back. "Do I get a say in any of this?" I tease, already knowing I'd give her whatever she wants.

"No!" she shouts back and I can't help but laugh. When my laughter fades, the weight of what she's telling me hits me like a truck.

I slide down her body, wrapping her tiny waist in my big hands, kissing my way down her sternum as I get lost in images of taking her on dates, seeing her walk down the aisle towards me, vacations on a tropical beach, her belly swollen with my baby. It's a beautiful future I never gave myself permission to want. I blink away the tears that threaten to fall.