Page 63 of Forsaken Vows

“You sound scared. You don’t want this?” My heart kicked up a beat.

She looked at the house again, then back at me—eyes wide, full of everything I didn’t have words for. Then suddenly she was nodding, fast, like she couldn’t say it quick enough.

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I want this house. Yes, I want you. Yes to all of it. Don’t say stupid fucking stuff.”

I smiled at that last part because I seemed to be rubbing off on her. Zane eight months ago would’ve never talked like she was. Before I could point it out, she leaned over the console and kissed me. Hard.. Like she needed me to feel everything she couldn’t say out loud. Her hands slid to the back of my head, her lips moved against mine with so much emotion it damn near knocked the breath out of me.

I almost cried again.

I kissed her deeper instead. Let my soul talk to hers for a while before pulling back. She stared at me, eyes all glazed like she wanted to pull me back into her.

“If you don’t stop looking at me, I will fuck you in broad daylight in this car.” My voice was so deep it sounded almost like I was growling. I didn’t give her time to answer. I adjusted my dick—it was so hard it almost ached—got out of the car and made my way to the passenger side.

I helped her out of the car and up to the house. I held the door open, letting her explore. Her fingers traced the walls, her bare feet padding across the new wood floors. In the nursery, she paused, touching her belly as if she could already see it—our life here.

“We could grow old in this place,” she said softly.

I stepped behind her. “That’s the plan.”

By the time we left, she was smiling too big.

We stopped for dinner at a quiet little spot nearby—nothing fancy, just good food and soft music. She ordered salmon and lemonade. I got a steak but barely finished it because I was too busy watching her face every time she laughed.

That was enough for me.

She slid the dessert menu toward me. “You want something sweet?”

“Already got you.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Corny.”

“Maybe. But true.”

We paid and stood to leave, her hand slipping into mine like it belonged there. Because it did.

We were halfway out the door, stepping into the cool night air, when a voice cut through the quiet.

“Zane?”

She froze.

I turned just in time to see Mark standing near the curb, holding the hand of a woman who looked like she’d stepped out of a magazine—long blond hair, pretty face, clearly confused.

But Mark wasn’t looking at her.

His eyes were locked on Zane.

Then they flicked to me.

And just like that, all the anger he’d probably been holding back for the past six months erupted.

“Motherfucker,” he growled, and before I could react, he was striding toward us—chest out, fists clenched, face twisted with rage.

I moved in front of Zane because I’d be damned if he touched her.

“Nah,” I said, holding up a hand. “Not here.”

But he didn’t stop.

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