Page 202 of Sinful Like Us
Not yet.
I consistently pull back on Thatcher.
Realizations wash over me coolly. “All this time, I thought love is a compromise of equals. 50-50. But it’s not…is it?”
She leans back and gives me another pointed look. “With the right person, they’ll ensure you’re always whole.”
A dam bursts inside of me. Freeing all restraints, and a feeling flutters so wildly. I rise quickly. Hurried. “I have to go. I have to…” I can hardly release the words into the air.
“Go.” Her eyes twinkle and she waves towards the hatch.
My pulse beats and beats, and I scale down the ladder. Cold air nipping my neck and bare feet.
“Where is she going?” Aunt Lily asks, her voice carrying behind me.
“To make a grand gesture.” My mom has to be smiling. I hear it beneath her words.
“We’re following her, right?” Aunt Daisy asks, hopeful.
“Grab your coats,” my mom tells them as I drop down to the soft grass. Snow melted a few days ago, and I sprint.
Really, it’s a light jog.
I head down the driveway into the cul-de-sac and race up the neighborhood street. Gated and safe, no irksome bodyguard namedTonyneeded.
Cold slices my lungs, and I keep pace, reaching the long, winding driveway of the Cobalt Estate. My childhood home.
Naked tulip trees frame the driveway, and I take a single breath before ascending the path. Thatcher was invited to anOutlandermarathon with Eliot and Audrey. Since he was off-duty tonight, he agreed to go. I love that he’s spending time with my siblings like they’re his own.
Sentiments whirl around me. Fuel me.
I run harder.
I’m out of breath as I reach the ornate fountain that guards a castle-like mansion. Icicles drip off the stone fountain, but its not frozen solid. The sound of rushing water calms my spinning brain, and I text Thatcher to meet me outside.
Fifteen seconds later, the door swings open, and Thatcher emerges, all six-foot-seven of him. Bold and quiet and assertive.
“Thatcher,” I greet deeply.
“Jane,” he says just as fully. He assesses me in a sweep. Lingering on my bare feet, pajamas, and lack of coat in the winter. He’s already removing his brown leather jacket while he closes the door behind him.
I can barely contain what aches and pleads toexplodeout of me. My breath smokes the air as he approaches. Towering above.
I crane my neck to look up.
He stares down and places his warm jacket on my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I breathe, slipping my arms through the big sleeves that engulf my frame. I hug the jacket around me, his scent dizzying. “I just…” I inhale. “There’s so much I want to tell you.”
A sliver of space separates him from me. Tension beckoning us to draw skin-to-skin. Neither crosses the distance, because once we do this will turn into raw, desperate passion. Our lips together, bodies fused—and right now, words must come first.
He seizes my gaze, with me to the end. Ready for whatever grenade I toss, but this one won’t blow us to pieces.
And I gush, “I need you. I need you like the air I breathe, and I wantyou like ground beneath my feet. I’m not afraid—I’mnotafraid, not even a little. You are the man who has respected all of who I am and protected every little piece of me.”
His chest lifts in a strong breath. We stare powerfully, not wasting a moment to blink.
“You keep me whole,” I profess. “Andlove—that dreaded, beautiful word—love.” I breathe, “Love is two wholes. We are two-hundred percent—an illogical number, maddening, and I will forever embrace every illogical,maddeningsecond with you.” Tears threaten to surge.
