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He turns away then, shielding his emotions while he processes them. When he does finally respond, his voice is so brittle, it’s barely audible.
“Because the thought of losing you for good fucking paralyzes me. And if I fuck it up, when I fuck it up, I know I won’t survive that loss.”
His words stun me into silence, and at the same time, they confuse me. All this time, this is what he’s been afraid of? He’s keeping me away to protect himself from something he’s already doing to himself? To both of us.
“You’ve already pushed me away,” I tell him. “How is that any different?”
His head dips in defeat. “It’s not. I thought it would be if I was controlling when or how it happened, but it’s not any different. You’re too good to be real. It’s impossible to allow myself to think, even for a second, that I could actually have something like this. But I can’t let you go either. I’ve tried. Fuck, I have tried.”
I sit up and move to him slowly, terrified he might flee at any moment. But he doesn’t. Even when he feels my hands wrap around him from behind, my lips pressing against a scar on his naked back. A scar he bore for me.
“Lawson?”
He shivers beneath my touch, and I grab his face, turning him to look at me. His eyes are soft and vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen, and I know something has shifted. This isn’t a fleeting glance. He’s giving me the key, unlocking himself, and he’s letting me in.
“I love you too,” I whisper.
He shudders, pain twisting his features, and it’s only then I understand why this is so hard for him. All this time, I couldn’t make sense of it, but it was staring me in the face. He told me about his family. The betrayal he felt from his brother. The coldness I’ve seen in his mother when she looks at him. The agony he feels over letting her down. Everyone he’s ever loved has let him down and made him feel unworthy. Why would he think I’d be any different?
That realization wrenches my heart, twisting me up inside as I squeeze him in my grasp, trying to convey the intensity I feel for him.
“I love you,” I tell him again. “And I always will. No matter how much you piss me off. No matter how much we fight. Regardless of what the future brings, you are imprinted on me. Do you understand that? You are and always will be the one person who makes me feel this way.” I crawl onto his lap, bringing his fingers to the beating pulse of my racing heart. “That song is just for you, Lawson Montgomery. Nobody else gets that.”
He cups the back of my skull in his palm, drags me to him, and kisses me. It’s a kiss of possession. Of claiming. But something deeper. Something unbreakable. And that tether that binds us will always be. I know it. He knows it. And we give in to it, for real this time.
He sets me on his cock, back where I belong, and we move at a slower pace. Less rushed and more of a prolonged burn. I realize it as he’s kissing his way over my neck, down my collarbone, and groping my breasts with a reverence he doesn’t hide. He’s making love to me.
“Lawson,” I groan his name, and he rumbles an appreciative sound in response.
My fingers tangle in his hair, tugging as he sends me off into oblivion, shattering around him with the most intense orgasm of my life. When I come back down, he grabs my face, staring into my eyes until his release severs the connection. I swallow the sound of pleasure from his lips and squeeze around him, collapsing into his chest.
His fingers move to that blank space on the back of my neck, stroking me, and I know what he’s thinking before he even says it.
“This was always meant to be mine.”
“Then brand me already,” I challenge him. “Take it because it’s yours.”
He tips my chin up, pulling back to meet my gaze. “Tonight.”
“What?” I blink at him, not certain I heard him correctly.
“Tonight,” he repeats. “I don’t want to wait another day. Marry me, Mercedes. Let me claim you the way I should have a long fucking time ago.”
The intensity in his eyes unravels me, and as crazy as it sounds, I find myself nodding along because it’s the only thing that makes sense.
“Tonight,” I murmur my agreement, my fingers moving reverently over his face. “Make me yours, Lawson Montgomery. And don’t ever let me go again.”
20
Mercedes
The benefit of Judge being a Sovereign Son is that his word can move mountains. In the span of time it takes for me to shower and do my hair and makeup, he’s already got an army assembled downstairs in my condo.
There’s a moment of surprise when I see Solana, Georgie, Ivy, and Santiago are all waiting for me. But that moment is quickly swept up in the chaos as Solana and Ivy usher me upstairs to try on wedding dresses.
“Don’t worry.” Solana starts fingering through the hanging bags on the rack they set up in the nursery. “I gave the stylist a brief rundown of your style.”
I can see that, and I’m glad for it. Because only a few dresses in the whole display are white. The others are golds, blacks, emerald greens, and most importantly, red. Specifically, crimson. That’s the first one I see. The first one that beckons me, and when I pull it out to examine it, I already know this will be the one.
