Page 91 of Well, Actually

I love you, I mouth, not bothering to hide it from anyone viewing. Everyone should know how lucky I am to love a man like him.

Both of us catch the charge between us, and we wrap up the interview with little style and a lot of stolen smiles. With a definitive click, Rylie shuts off the camera and powers down his phone. I do the same, breezily swiping away the hundreds of notifications before the screen goes black. That’s for tomorrow, for future Eva with a career path that isn’t nearly as bleak as I thought, but just as scary. The fear doesn’t seem to matter as much, not when I have Rylie marching with me.

He crosses the room to me, crooked smile glowing on hisface moments before he swoops me up in a kiss. He holds me, both of us vibrating with the magnitude of what we just did, all that I’ve said in such a public way.

“I’m so fucking proud of you,” Rylie whispers against my neck, tracing his lips up and down. “So fucking amazed to know you.”

“Jesus, Rylie, try not to be so stingy with the praise.”

He laughs, making an arduous circuit along my jaw, then across my forehead.

“I’m so lucky to knowyou,” I say on a sigh, feeling swamped with pleasure. It’s cheesy and I’m infatuated and I couldn’t care less about anything or anyone but the man layering words and sensations of adoration onto me.

We eventually break for air, giggling like we’re teenagers touching each other for the first time. Somehow, I know the feeling will never fade.

“So…” Rylie starts, smile shy and cheeks pink. “Want to go on that sixth date?”

My eyebrows furrow, lips still buzzing from his kisses as I fix them into a frown. “And skip over four and five?Wow.”

Rylie cups my cheeks, laughing as he brushes his nose against mine, filling me with warmth and light and a want so sharp, only a promise of forever can dull the edge. “Easy, Kitten. I’ll give you as many dates as you need. You just have to ask nicely.”

“Nice isn’t really my style.”

Rylie looks at me, eyes bright and hopeful and a mirror to every feeling flooding through me as I stare at the man I love.

He kisses me again, slowly at first, then with a bite of hunger, a franticness neither of us are ever able to curb. Needand comfort and hope and desire swirl around us, bringing us closer. He pulls back, indulging my whine of protest with a few quick pecks along my cheeks.

“I wouldn’t have you any other way,” he whispers, then kisses me some more.

The fucking end