Poppy didn’t speak. Too afraid the words in her throat, her confessions of love, would spill into his ears, and he’d turn away from her, walk back down the aisle without her. Leave her and her love behind.
A tremble raked through her.
He frowned. His dark eyes probing.
But she couldn’t let him see.
She wouldn’t make him afraid.
‘Poppy?’
She shook her head. Reached for him. Placed her palm to his bristled cheek. She leaned in. Brushed her mouth against his.
She kissed him.
Kissed him with all of her love.
And she promised with her lips—her mouth—she’d love him.Always.
Her love would always be his.
It always was.
She thrust her fingers into his hair—her fingers—her hands—moving to cradle his nape.
She could do this, she told herself.
Her lovewouldbe strong enough for both of them.
Konstantinos could do nothing but accept her kiss. The intensity of it. It was the same as their every kiss, an explosion, but this was…different.
She drank from his mouth as if it was their first kiss, but somehow their last. As if it were a goodbye, but also hello.
His chest tightened.
He didn’t understand it. These thoughts in his head. And so he ignored them. These things he didn’t understand.
He pushed his fingers into her hair and met her intensity with his own with the sweep of his tongue. The pressure of his lips.
And then her hands were on his chest. Her palms pushing, she pulled her lips from his.
He didn’t want her to pull away.
He wanted her close.
He swallowed. Opened his eyes. Met the blue of hers.
‘After the ceremony,’ he growled, because he needed to tell her. This decision, he realised, he’d made. Right now.Here. In the chapel. ‘I’ll stay here with you.’
She blinked. ‘What about work?’
‘If I must leave, you’ll come with me.’
And he knew that was how it would be between them now.
She would be with him.Always.
‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘I’ll be with you. Whereveryouare.’