Page 224 of Break Away
I kissed her forehead. “You’re the only person who would call that romantic.”
“I’m the only person who gets to see it.” She snuggled closer, her ass pressing against my hips. “So it’s romantic to me.”
I held her tighter, breathing her in. The rage was still there, a quiet ember in the dark. The fear for my future, a cold knot in my stomach. The memories of her pain, a shadow in the corner of the room.
But right here, right now, with her warm and pliant in my arms, our scents mingled, our hearts slowing to the same rhythm, none of that could touch us. We were in a world of our own making, built from rain and lamplight and the raw, unvarnished truth between us.
“I love you,” I said into the quiet.
She turned in my arms, facing me, her nose brushing mine. “I love you too, East.”
And for the first time in a long, long time, the name didn’t feel like a weapon. It felt like a promise. Like a home.
I kissed her softly, slowly, a seal on the vow.
The rain kept falling, washing the world clean outside. In here, we were just beginning.
25
Aura
Morning came in soft and gold through my curtains, which felt disrespectful considering my body had spent the night discovering that physical reconciliation with Easton apparently came with athletic requirements.
I was asleep on my stomach with one arm shoved under my pillow and my braids half across my face when the bed dipped beside me. Then it dipped again, harder this time, and bounced just enough to drag a groan out of me.
“If that’s Bliss with breakfast, I need her to know I support her growth, but I will bite.”
A low laugh moved over my spine.
Not Bliss.
My whole body knew it before my brain caught up.
The mattress shifted as Easton climbed over me, one knee on either side of my hips, his hands braced near my shoulders, caging me beneath him without putting his full weight on me. He was shirtless, blond hair rumpled, mouth soft from sleep and entirely too pleased with himself for a man whose existence before caffeine should have been illegal.
“Morning,” he said.
I turned my face enough to glare at him through one eye. “You are too large to be this cheerful.”
“I’m not cheerful.”
“You’re hovering.”
“I’m conducting a wake-up.”
“You’re bouncing the bed like a kid on Christmas morning.”
His grin hit slowly, and I hated how much I loved it. “That was almost sweet.”
“It was my half-awake observation.”
He lowered himself just enough that his mouth brushed the side of my neck. “Get up, my sexy girl.”
My eyes opened the rest of the way.
He went still above me, like he had heard himself at the same time I had.
The words hung there, warm and ridiculous and intimate in the morning light, and after everything we had broken to get here, my chest didn’t know whether to fold around them or fight them off with a chair.
