Page 47 of Dangers of Love

I wasn’t prepared. My head was spinning, and I wondered if I’d faint. Part of me almost wished for it. If I passed out, I could put off yet another life-altering choice. Never before had I wished so hard for the ground to open and swallow me up.

Life was funny. I had wanted my family to treat me like an adult and respect my decisions, even if they disagreed. I’d wanted it so much that I’d walked away from them to prove that I could take care of myself.

And since that moment, I’d been faced with the type of adult decisions I never dreamed I’d need to make at this point in my life.

But I refused to go back to how things had been. I had something to prove, not only to my family but to myself. If I couldn’t cope with surprises, then what chance did I have to succeed on my own?

Which brought up another question. If I accepted Eoin’s proposal, was I really still doing things on my own?

“Aline?”

The worry in Eoin’s voice pulled me out of my head. He looked concerned but not embarrassed, which meant he was most likely still thinking that I was too surprised to speak. He would have accounted for the initial shock, but I was on borrowed time.

“Yes.” The word came out before I realized I’d made a decision. I hadn’t weighed the options, considered the pros and cons, but as soon as I said it, the fear that had been building up inside me vanished. I had no doubt that I’d be terrified again at some point, but at least I wouldn’t be frightened alone.

And I hadn’t gone back to my parents or Freedom.

Eoin was my choice, and I was his. This was our life together.

“Yes?”

I smiled and leaned down to give him a kiss. “Yes.”

He slid the ring onto my finger as he stood, his smile stretched from ear to ear. My heart skipped a beat, and it had nothing to do with anxiety. It was all him. No matter how scared I was, how concerned about the future, I still wanted him, in part because of the pure physical attraction, but also for one other very specific reason.

He made me feel safe.

And right now, safety was a very big turn-on.

He ran his thumb over the ring, his skin brushing against mine so lightly that I almost couldn’t feel it. A ghost of a touch. More of an awareness than a physical sensation.

Heat rushed through me, from my center out to my extremities, every cell practically vibrating. I turned my hand over, let his fingers trace over my palm, ran my fingertips over his wrist. He caught his breath, his eyes darkening.

“How do you…feel?” he asked, his voice rougher.

I raised an eyebrow. “Uh, fine? Thank you?”

One corner of his mouth tipped up in a rakish grin. He pushed some hair out of my face. “Let me clarify. Are you feeling well enough tocelebrate?”

“Oh,” I breathed as my stomach clenched.

His expression faltered slightly. “Unless you’re not…I mean…are you okay? Or you just don’t want…”

A strong, confident man was appealing, but seeing that hint of vulnerability, that part of him that most people didn’t get to see, it twisted something inside me. This was what I saw when I looked into his eyes, what I felt when we made love. The part of himself that no one else got to see. The totality of a man who was so much more than the scars on his body or the wounds in his soul.

“I feel fine,” I said with a soft smile. “No nausea, nothing like that.” I put a hand on his cheek. “And I definitely want tocelebratewith you.”

His lips crashed into mine, hungry, all-consuming. Fire ignited within me. Not a slow simmer, but an explosion blazing across every nerve. I clutched the front of his shirt, wrinkling the fabric. His tongue swept into my mouth, and all thoughts fled. The scent of him filled me, cedar and sandalwood, and justhim.

His hands slid down to my butt, and he lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, both of us groaning as his erection pressed against my core. Layers of fabric were between us, but the friction still sent a shiver of pleasure through me. I dug my fingers into his hair, nails scratching his scalp as his hands flexed on my ass. I was vaguely aware that we were moving, but it was an undercurrent of knowledge, not close enough to the surface for me to really care.

Then I was on a bed, Eoin’s body covering mine, the weight of him pleasant. I ran my hands up his arms and across his shoulders, over his back, enjoying the feel of his muscles flexing under my palms. Knowing what was underneath his clothes, I pulled at his shirt, wanting to see, to touch.

He pushed himself up onto his knees and pulled his shirt over the back of his head with one hand before tossing it off the bed. It was one of the hottest things I’d ever seen. I sat up, running my hands over his torso, familiar territory with each dip and ridge, each scar. When I pressed my lips to the skin just above his belly button, he sucked in a breath.

“Aline.” My name was a prayer, a warning, a blessing.

“Eoin.” I smiled against his stomach and hooked my fingers into his waistband. My tongue traced a scar, then his belly button, moved down the trail of hair until it disappeared into his pants.

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