Page 108

Now it’s her turn.

Slowly, she turns in my arms until she’s facing me. At first, her gaze stays fixed on my chest. Then, hesitant, she lifts it until it meets mine.

“You haven’t slept with Irina since the first time you slept with me?” she asks softly, caught between disbelief and something dangerously close to hope. “How am I supposed to believe that?”

Alright. One more truth.

“I haven’t been with anyone else since the first time I touched you,” I answer simply.

Then I let her go.

She just stands there—motionless, eyes wide, lips parted as if the words never quite made it out. Absolutely undone.

I turn away and head for the bar, pouring myself a glass of whiskey. I need something to take the edge off.

“And you can choose to believe me or not, Thalia,” I say, taking a sip, my back still to her. “I’m done with the games. I want you. And apparently only you. For fuck’s sake.”

I don’t bother untangling the contradiction, the things I said earlier. I know what I want now.

Truth is… I think I always did. I just refused to admit it.

When I finally turn back to her, she’s staring at me like she can’t process what I’ve just said. Shocked. Uncertain. Maybe even afraid to believe it.

If I didn’t know better, I’d laugh.

“What does that even mean?” she asks quietly, bracing herself for whatever comes next.

“It means,” I say, taking another sip of whiskey, “that I want to keep sleeping with you. Only you.”

I hold her gaze, not letting her look away.

“It means I’m not promising you any of that fairytale bullshit—families, forever, all that.”

Her eyes drop for a brief second, and I catch the flicker she tries to hide.

Disappointment.

“But I’m asking you to walk this path with me,” I add more quietly, “wherever it leads.”

That’s it. Everything is out in the open. For the first time in my life, I’ve laid it all out for a woman.

And for the first time, I actually want the answer to be yes—even if I didn’t ask a question.

“How do I know you won’t change your mind?” she asks, uncertainty threading through her words. “That you won’t want someone else again?”

“I just told you,” I reply, firmly. “I haven’t touched anyone else all this time. Don’t you think I could have, if I’d wanted to? If I needed to?”

She parts her lips, hesitating. “But…”

“I don’t care about any other woman, Thalia,” I cut in, serious, leaving no room for doubt. “You’re the only one I want in my bed.”

The admission comes easily. Too easily.

“But I need to know it’s mutual. That no one else gets to touch you.”

It’s not phrased like a question, but it lingers between us like one. I wait, silent, watching her.

Her expression hardens. “I’m not the one with enough one-night stands to last five lifetimes, Ethan,” she fires back.