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“Or worry about tomorrow.”

“Okay.” I turned my head and kissed her palm. “What do you want?”

Her eyes locked on mine. “You.”

One word. Three letters. And suddenly, breathing was optional.

Then she smiled. Shyly.

Shyly.

Mikayla Parsons didn't do shy. She did commanding. Confident. Occasionally homicidal. But there she was, cheeks pink, looking at me like I was something she wanted and wasn't quite sure she should have.

“You've respected our contract and behaved like a gentleman.” Her thumb brushed my lower lip. “Now kindly start behaving like a heartbreaker again.”

“As you wish.”

I leaned in, but she caught my smile with hers before our mouths met.

“You're mixing your quotes. That's The Princess Bride.”

“I'll be the Westley to your Buttercup any day.”

Her lips parted in a hushed gasp. “That might be the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me.”

“Glad to know the bar's so low.”

Then I kissed her. Not the way I'd been imagining all night. Not with the desperate hunger I'd been fighting since she'd walked out of that bathroom.

Slowly. Softly. Giving her every chance to pull away.

She didn't.

She sighed against my mouth and leaned closer. I slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her against me, and felt her smile.

“What?” I murmured.

“Nothing.”

I pulled back an inch. “You know how I feel about that word.”

She brushed her nose against mine. “I was just thinking.”

“Uh oh.”

“That for someone who's spent two years driving me absolutely insane…”

I raised a brow. “I'm listening.”

“You're surprisingly good at making me feel safe.”

Well, fuck. There went the last piece of my heart I hadn't already handed her.

I rested my forehead against hers. "Good," I whispered.

And when she reached for me again, I realized I wasn't thinking about how to get a woman into my bed. I was thinking about how much I wanted her to stay. Not just tonight. Not just until the wedding was over. But for every morning that came after.

I pressed a kiss to her forehead, then another to the tip of her nose, smiling when that soft, beautiful laugh slipped past her lips. Fuck, I loved that sound. I wanted to hear it on ordinary mornings, in the middle of long days, and on nights when the rest of the world felt too heavy. I wanted to be the reason she laughed like that, like happiness was something she could finally trust.