Page 151 of Surrender to Me

“Good.” One word, rough with relief. Then his hand moves, sliding into the pocket of his jeans, emerging with a small velvet box the color of midnight.

My heart slams against my ribs, hard enough that I feel it in my throat.

“Stryker…”

The corner of his mouth lifts, wicked and tender all at once, and he presses the box into my palm, closing my fingers around it with both of his hands.

The velvet is soft, worn in places like it has been carried for weeks, waiting for the right morning.

I open it with fingers that tremble only slightly.

Inside, on a bed of black satin, rests a large, beautiful, platinum, heart-shaped locket. Unable to help myself, I open it. On one side is a tiny picture of us at a recent black-tie event. It’s fun, irreverent, and it’s captured us looking at each other with absolute devotion.

The other side is empty. For the family we’ll have one day?

Emotion rises so fast; it steals my breath, thick and hot behind my eyes. I swallow once, twice, but the tears come anyway, sliding warm down my cheeks. He catches one with his thumb, smears it across my skin like he is marking me.

“You’re getting really good at this whole feelings thing,” I manage, the words scraping out around the lump in my throat.

“Don’t push it.” The growl is ruined by the way his mouth curves, soft and devastating.

He takes the necklace from the box, fingers steady where mine are not, and moves behind me. The chain is cool against my throat as he fastens it, the heart settling just above the hollow between my collarbones.

His hands linger, palms sliding down my arms, then around my waist again, pulling me back against him until I feel every inch of his body aligned with mine.

I reach up, fingers closing around the pendant, feeling its weight, small but undeniable. It rests against my skin like an anchor made of light.

He presses his mouth to the sensitive place between my neck and shoulder, and he grazes me with his teeth, just enough to make me shiver. Heat sparks low in my belly, familiar and urgent.

“Come inside.” With his lips, he trails fire along the line of my jaw. “I want to make you breakfast, be sure you have energy before I spend the rest of the day in bed ruining you.”

“So bossy,” I whisper, turning in his arms to wind mine around his neck.

His eyes glint, dark and hungry and absolutely certain. “Sweetheart, you have no idea.”

The laugh that tears out of me is real, echoing off the pines and the wide blue sky.

He kisses me then, slow and deep and devastating, tasting like coffee and springtime and every tomorrow we have not yet lived. When he pulls back, his hand wraps around mine, fingers laced tight, and he leads me inside.