Page 75 of Fumbled Into Love

“Deon—” I claim her mouth, desperate to express every emotion rioting in my brain in a single, searing kiss.

I lack the words to express what she means to me and how she’s slowly bringing me back to life. I was a shell of a person before I wound up on her couch, begging her to be my fake girlfriend. I was lonely and cynical, but when I’m with her, life is brighter and hopeful, like the first rays of a sunrise.

Facing Blake was like ripping off the rose-colored glasses on how poorly I was treated in my last relationship. I was belittled and ignored, made to believe I was the problem. I didn’t love her enough, give her enough, do enough for her.

But I’ve never felt any of those things with Nathalie.

With Nathalie, being myself is enough.

I don’t know how to say all of that to her, nor do I think it’s a smart idea, so I kiss her instead, hoping she might feel a fraction of what I do through the kiss.

My hands reach out, beginning to explore the soft slopes of her waist, and goosebumps pebble along her skin. Nathalie lifts on her elbows, her gaze full of emotion as she watches me.

“That’s the kind of response I expect every time I say the code word.” Her lips tilt upward in a smirk. “Artichoke. Artichoke. Artichoke. Now throw me across the bed again because that was hot as fuck.”

My head falls back in laughter.

Just when I think I couldn’t…I cut off the thought, and outrageous, dramatic words tumble out of my mouth.

“Please touch me, or I might shrivel up and die.”

Nathalie blinks, then bursts out laughing before crashing her lips to mine, arms wrapped around my neck as we tumble onto the sheets, a tangle of arms and limbs.

“I love it when you’re dramatic,” she mumbles between kisses.

“I usually keep my insane thoughts to myself." I’m not sure how she would respond to my delusional plan to get Lachlan deported for talking to her on Halloween or that I think about training Gordie to use the toilet.

“You should share them more often.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” I say, peppering gentle kisses around her face—her nose, her eyes, her cheeks—until she’s giggling. “You might get more than you wanted.”

“If it’s about you, then I want itall.”

She can’t make declarations like that, not when she looks at me like I’m the most important man in the room andasks me to hold her when she’s in pain. Not when this has an expiration date. Not when this is fake. Not when she’s going to leave.

Tears prick my eyes, and I push them back, gently easing her back on the bed. My chain dangles between us, and she tugs it, pulling my lips to hers.

This kiss is slow and intimate, seeping into my veins.

Her hands tug at the hem of my shirt, and I rip the t-shirt over my head. Her nipples pebble in the chilly air, and I stare as her chest rises and falls. Nathalie lifts a brow.

“I thought you said you were going toshrivel and die,” she teases, and I cut off her next taunt when I take her breast into my mouth, teasing the peaked bud with my tongue.

Nathalie sighs, head falling back as I work down, pressing intimate kisses onto her torso.

“God, you’re magnificent,” I admit, and her cheeks flush a rosy hue. “Why are you blushing? It’s true.”

Her hands fly to her face, and my body short-circuits, brain ceasing to function as she lays completely bare before me, her knees opening slightly as I sink to mine.

“No one’s ever said that about me before,” she whispers, “No one hasevercalled me magnificent. But you’ve called me that twice.”

I have?

Perhaps I’ve never realized it because it’s the truth. Her beauty is magnificent. But her soul, her heart—the way she treats others with kindness and patience—those are the things that make her marvelous. Every piece I learn is more magnificent than the last.

I press a kiss against the inside of her thigh, and my breath dances along her skin. Nathalie jerks, and my laugh is husky asI scrape my teeth against the sensitive flesh, causing her to buck upwards.

“I’ve said it because it’s true.”

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