Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
For a heartbeat, I let myself imagine what it would be like—me in a white dress, the two of us hand in hand, proclaiming our devotion in front of people we love. The flutter in my chest becomes a rush of warmth. But the moment I allow that daydream to bloom, a wave of nerves and self-doubt follows right behind, making my stomach twist. Am I ready for that? Are we?
My cheeks heat, and I shake my head, trying to banish the thoughts before they take root too deeply. Orion notices, of course. He always notices. He’s perceptive in a way that both comforts and unnerves me. His hand, broad and strong, slips to my hip.
“What’s wrong?” he whispers, voice low and a breath away from my ear. The warmth of it draws a shiver from me, even though the room is far from cold.
“Nothing,” I manage, looking down at my bare toes curling against the rug. My heart’s pounding so loudly I half-expect him to hear it.
He presses in closer, gently nudging me to lift my gaze back to him. “Don’t lie,” he murmurs, and the timbre of his voice thrums with concern. “It’s like you were thinking of something that made you smile… and then it didn’t. Tell me.”
I try to shrug off the question, but the intensity in his eyes doesn’t waver. He’s unrelenting in that quiet, protective way. Suddenly, I’m overwhelmed by how much I want to tell him everything—my thoughts about marriage, about love, about forging a future where we wake up side by side every morning and go to bed in each other’s arms every night.
But I’m not sure I’m ready to voice it, to lay it out there when I’m still navigating the scars of my past ordeals. My words catch in my throat, and instead of the flood of confessions that rattle inside me, I give him a small smile, hoping he won’t push. “Kiss me,” I whisper, voice trembling with both desire and relief. “Please?”
A flicker of emotion flashes across his face—something between longing and a silent, always. He answers without words, leaning in to capture my mouth in a kiss that steals the breath straight from my lungs. My eyes slide shut under the heat of it, the world narrowing to the press of his lips, the gentle scrape of his stubble, the measured weight of his hand at my waist.
He kisses me like he’s on a mission, one he’s been training for his entire life. There’s purpose in it, the same devotion he brings to every detail of my safety, but now directed at something far more intimate—this raw need to show me I’m cherished. And I feel it in the way he angles his head, deepening the kiss, a low sound rumbling in his throat.
My hands come up of their own accord, sliding across the firm planes of his chest, curling into the fabric of his shirt. For a moment, I’m dizzy, forgetting how to breathe. The warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart, the faint scent of his cologne that lingers after a day’s wear—it all merges, threading into a tapestry of desire and comfort.
When he finally eases back, just a fraction, my lips are tingling, my thoughts a muddle of more, please. I open my eyes to find his gaze still pinned on me, dark and full of everything we’re not saying out loud. My pulse trips again.
I manage a shaky laugh, leaning my forehead against his. “You sure you weren’t trained in the art of seduction somewhere along the line?”
He cracks the faintest grin, but his voice is serious when he responds. “I was trained to protect. And I will always keep you safe.”
I brush my fingers along his jaw, memorizing the shape of it, the rasp of faint stubble beneath my touch. He leans into my palm, eyes drifting shut for a moment like he’s savoring it.
My mind flits back to that fleeting thought of a wedding, a future, a forever. The idea of belonging to each other in every way sparks a surge of warmth, but the flutter of uncertainty returns too. I can’t help but wonder if he sees the same possibilities, if he imagines a ring on my finger and a vow that ends with “I do.” I’m not sure how to ask, how to make words for something so simultaneously thrilling and terrifying.
He seems to sense my internal shift because he angles his head, searching my face. “If you ever need to talk, I’m here.” He strokes the back of my neck gently. “And if you just need me to kiss you breathless, I can do that too.”
A shaky exhale escapes me. “I might hold you to that.”
He tilts his head, trailing his mouth across my jaw in slow, feather-light passes, until I’m trembling from head to toe. Damn, how is he so good at this? My heart’s going off like a drumline, every cell in me singing yes, this.