Page 70 of The Alpha Escort Agency
He swallows, fighting the urge to close his eyes and sink to his knees, pleading with himself not to let himself hope.
“Is something wrong?” he says. There’s a giant lump in his throat, like a hard-boiled sweet he can’t swallow. His words sound wrong.
“Yes,” she says, her brow creasing more deeply, her face flushing even redder. “Yes, something is very wrong.”
“What?”
“Us.” She jerks her hand forward, hesitates, steels herself and then slowly offers him her hand. “Us,” she says again.
He peers down at her upturned hand, her woollen mitten damp with melting frost. He nods.
Yes, them. Something is very wrong with them.
He drags his hand from his pocket and wraps his own gloved fingers around hers, squeezing them gently.
“I’m sorry,” she says, “for pushing you away.”
“I’m sorry too.” He screws up his face. “I’m not good at the words, Alice. I don’t always say all the things I should. The right things. It doesn’t mean my feelings are any less powerful.” His heart stutters in his chest, willing him to say more. “My feelings are very, very strong.”
She smiles at him, in that way she does when he’s lost, dragging him out of the darkness and into her light.
“You think I’m any better at this?” She shakes her head. “I was afraid, terrified, so used to being afraid I didn’t even recognise it for what it was. And so I pushed you away. Because the feelings I have for you,” she pauses, “the love I have for you … I’ve never felt this way before, and loving someone this much, when you could lose them ….” She trails off.
He reaches for her other hand and pulls her towards him, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You’re not going to lose me,” he says with the conviction he harbours.
She slides her arms around him too, pressing her body against his. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”
“Neither do I.” He gazes down into her eyes. “I keep reliving that conversation at the bar, kicking myself over and over because I never told you how much I love you. Never said the words that matter most. And I do, Alice, love you.”
She strokes his knuckles and he goes to kiss her, but she holds up a hand to stop him.
“Wait, Rory. I need to say more.” She swallows. “I realised I don’t care what you do for a living. I need you in my life and if that means accepting what you do, then I’m prepared to do that.” She lifts her chin in defiance.
“It’s okay, I already quit.”
“But your nan! Your grandad explained what happened. You’re going to need the money to—”
“We found another way.”
“Are you sure?”
He nods. “Yes. I’m going to give the photography a go. If I don’t … if I don’t try it properly, intentionally, I’ll always wonder ‘what if?’ I might have to set myself up as a family or a wedding photographer to earn a bit of cash on the side while I establish myself. But I’m going to try it.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“I’m proud of myself,” he admits, only just realising the truth of the words. He hasn’t felt that way in years. It’s a nice emotion.
And with that flowing through his veins, he leans in to kiss her.
The heat from her run has waned and the tip of her nose and her lips are cold, but the inside of her mouth is warm, warm and inviting. Kissing her is like coming home after a long arduous journey out in the dark and cold.
Her scent swims and swirls, curls and careers around him, twisting and mixing with his, fusing together to create an aroma that’s even sweeter, even tastier. He smiles against her mouth. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? The way their scents combine in that way. Like adding two pleasant ingredients together to create a truly delicious dish.
It was there. It was there, right from the start. And he hadn’t read it; their scents showing them how perfectly, how rightly, how completely, they belonged to one another.
“What?” she says, pulling away and looking up into his eyes, her own lips twitching into a smile.
“Nothing,” he says, “Nothing at all, little Omega.”
