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CHAPTER 9
DECLAN
As I navigate the winding roads back from Gram’s, my right hand rests firmly on the curve of Natalie’s thigh. My left hand clutches the steering wheel with a firm grip, turning my knuckles white against the black leather.
The air inside the car is thick with the subtle aroma of her jasmine perfume, mingling with the faint scent of pine trees from outside. The rhythmic hum of the engine underscores my thoughts, and I glance over at her, seeing the soft glow of the dashboard lights dance across her serene face. She’s woven into the fabric of my daily life, and the very thought of facing a day without her by my side sends an unsettling pang through my chest.
She’s humming some shitty pop song under her breath and drumming her fingers on my knee. Her nails are short, efficient, painted a muted pink I bet she picked out thinking it would disappear. But nothing about her disappears. She infects every surface, every sense, every synapse. I’m so fucking happy it’s almost unrecognizable. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was coming down with something.
She doesn’t say a word for the last ten minutes of the drive. Just stares out the window, watching the scenery flicker past. When I pull up to the building, she unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to look at me. Eyes all molten, lips soft. I want to say something like, “You’re home,” but the words jam up in my throat and all I can manage is, “Let’s go.”
We take the elevator up in silence. Not the charged, about-to-explode kind of silence we have at work, but the heavy, sleepy, domestic kind you get at three in the morning with someone you trust.
She walks out ahead of me when the elevator doors open on the top floor, but I catch her wrist and haul her back, not rough but not gentle either. She lets herself be pulled, lets me tuck her against my chest like she’s made for it. Her hair smells like my soap. Her heart hammers against my sternum.
I scoop her up, one arm under her knees, the other bracing her back. She’s light and warm, and she yelps in surprise, arms flying around my neck. “What are you doing, you lunatic?”
"Carrying you to bed."
"You do realize I can walk, right? It's called walking on two legs, a modern wonder."
I ignore her and carry her through the entryway. She laughs, that rare unguarded laugh that always knocks the wind out of me. I set her down at the threshold of the bedroom, but my hands linger at her waist, digging into the soft flesh there just to prove to myself she’s real.
I expect her to say something snarky, but she just turns, hands still braced on my ribs, and looks at my face like she’s trying to figure me out.
She’s got no idea how much she’s rattled me. No idea that I haven’t slept a full night since the first time she rolled her eyes at me, and I wanted to slam her against a wall and never let her leave.
I can’t hold it in anymore. I slide my hands up to her cheeks, my palms all callused and rough and probably too big for her delicate face. I make her look at me.
“Listen,” I say, and my voice comes out gritty as a back alley. “I can’t wait another second.”
She blinks. “For what?”
I can feel myself flush, embarrassment boiling under the skin. “To make you mine.” Confusion enters her gaze as I fight to find the words, to admit what I need to admit. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to wake up next to. The only person who makes this place feel like a home. The only person who’ll ever own my goddamn heart.”
She just stares, lips parted. I can see the pulse racing in her throat. I press on because, if I stop now, I’ll never finish.
“Every day, I get a little crazier. You’re in my head all the goddamn time.”
She makes a little sound like she wants to speak, but I barrel right through.
“I don’t want just your body,” I tell her. “I want every goddamn part of you. The smart, stubborn, back-talking, all of it. I want you here. With me. Not just tonight, but every night. And I want the entire world to know you’re mine.”
My hands are shaking, which is the most humiliating thing that’s ever happened to me, but I refuse to let go of her. I frame her face in my hands, thumbs stroking along her jaw because I don’t know what else to do with the energy trying to break out of me.
She’s not saying anything, and I start to panic. Did I fuck this up? Did I come on too strong? My mouth keeps going, desperate to fill the silence.
“I know you’re independent. I know you don’t need me. But I fucking need you, Natalie.”
I swallow hard. “So, if you’re in, I need to know. Because I’m all the way in, and I can’t go back.”
Her eyes shine in the dim light. She’s trembling, but not from fear. She bites her lip, hard, and I want to do it for her, want to taste her. I can’t stand it.
I tip her chin up, bring my forehead down to hers, and breathe her in.
“Say something,” I whisper, but it comes out more like a threat than a plea.
She laughs, shaky and wild. “You’re a fucking idiot,” she says. “I love you, too.”
