Page 111 of Only and Forever

I smile, crawling up his body, falling to the side, tucked close, my thigh thrown over his, my hand circling over his heart, which beats wildly against his ribs.

Slowly, I bend and kiss him.I love you, I tell him with my lips’ serenade to his.I love you, I tell him, my hand resting over his heart.

Viggo blinks up at me, a darling, dazed smile brightening hisface. He blinks slowly, sated, exhaustion all over his face. “Lula,” he breathes.

“Viggo,” I whisper, kissing his forehead, pulling back, smiling down at him.

His eyes slip closed. “You killed me dead.”

“Death by orgasm. Not the worst way to go.”

He smiles, eyes shut. “Just a metaphor, Clarke. I’m not going anywhere.” His words are slurred with sleepiness.

My smile deepens. “Good. I want you around for a long time.”

“Hmm.” His smile fades, sleep smoothing his expression. A soft snore rolls out of him.

I bite my lip, smiling so wide it hurts. Tears settle in the corners of my eyes. I could stare at him, watch him sleep like this, naked and peaceful beside me, forever.

If things go the way I want them to tomorrow, I just might get to.

Carefully I reach for the foot of the bed and bring up the soft knit cotton blanket, covering him. I settle back into the pillows, and I watch him sleep, moonlight casting deep shadows on his lashes, the long, straight line of his nose.

When I’ve had my fill, at least for now, I turn, careful to be quiet and slow. I reach for my e-reader on the nightstand, power it to life, and turn the brightness down. Blowing out a steady breath, I stare at the screen, my finger hovering over the title.

One of his favorite historical romances, according to the adorably detailed “Bookseller’s Favorites” index cards he’s written and perched around titles he loves shelved across the store. I downloaded it before our flight. Finally, I tap it and watch the book open up.

I settle in beside the man I love, a story he loves in my hands.

THIRTY

Viggo

Playlist: “From Eden,” Hozier

Sunlight wakes me, warm on my skin. I blink, disoriented, bone-deep calm weighting my body to the mattress. My hand slides across the bed, eager to feel Tallulah, to touch her and draw her close.

But the bed is cool. Empty.

I jackknife upright, heart pounding, as last night rushes back to me. Tallulah’s hands on me, her mouth. Her slow kisses and tender touch making me fall apart. The most intense orgasm of my life, which knocked me back, left me spent and peaceful, my mind blank, my body sated, in a way it’s never been.

I remember kissing her afterward, cuddling close. And then...

Oh, sweet Jesus. I fell asleep. After that incredible intimacy she gave me, I didn’t reciprocate, didn’t take care of her the way she’d so lovingly taken care of me.

Lovingly.

The word echoes in my head. I rake my hands through my hair, panicked, my breathing shallow. It felt loving, her touch, her kiss, her eyes holding mine. But what if that scared her? Worse, what if she did that for me, gave that to me, but she still doesn’t know, believe, think, love is something we could share?

Love.

I’ve been holding that word at bay, locked away deep insidemyself, always in the corner of my thoughts, telling myself it’s not reallyrealif I don’t drag it out into the light and name it, face it head on.

But it’s no less true.

And it’s terrifying.

I love her. I love Tallulah. And falling in love looked... nothing like I believed it would. It wasn’t sudden or showy, clean-cut or clear. It was uneven and unexpected, creeping quietly, a vine that began as a small, delicate shoot winding its way through me, until one day it was everywhere, twined through my heart, my mind, my life, every corner of it.

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