Her lips part, her breath catching. “I love you too.”
I feel her fall apart around me, her body tightening, trembling, as she cries out my name, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her nails marking me, claiming me.
I lose it.
The sight of her, lips parted, eyes hazy, body quaking as she comes undone on top of me. It’s too much, too fucking much.
I thrust up into her one last time, my grip on her hips bruising, my own release slamming into me like a tidal wave. A guttural groan rips from my throat as I spill into her, dragging her down onto me, holding her tight, as if letting go would mean losing her again.
She slumps forward, panting, shaking, her forehead resting against mine. Our breaths mix, our bodies still fused together, the air between us thick, heavy, electric.
I brush my lips over her cheek, her jaw, anywhere I can reach, still trying to catch my breath, still trying to comprehend that she’s here.
Her fingers trace the back of my neck, her touch softer now, lingering, loving.
Neither of us speaks for a moment, too caught up in the aftershocks, the weight of what just happened, of what it means.
Then, in a whisper so soft I barely hear it, she breathes.
“You got the job.”
22
Lila
Several Months Later
The sun is dipping low, casting long shadows over the nearly finished park. The new water fountain gleams in the evening light, benches freshly painted, fairy lights already strung between the trees, waiting to be switched on tomorrow.
There’s just a few final things to do.
Right now, Ben is being bossed around like a rookie intern by my mother.
I spot him near the flower beds, looking deeply offended by a gardening trowel, his sleeves rolled up, expensive watch still on, as if he’s trying to maintain some level of dignity while on his knees in the dirt. I bite back a laugh, walking over as Mum shakes her head at him. “Benjamin, you are murdering that poor lavender plant.”
Ben sighs dramatically, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead like he’s been working the fields for hours instead of planting a few flowers. “With all due respect, Mrs Ng,” he says, voice painfully polite, “the plant is not dead. It’s merely… adjusting to my technique.”
Mum huffs, shaking her head. “For a man who can handle billion-pound deals, you have the delicate touch of a wrecking ball.”
Mum smacks his shoulder lightly with a gardening glove, muttering something in Cantonese that is not a compliment before turning to grab another plant.
I crouch beside Ben, smirking. “You know, if you just followed directions, she might go easier on you.”
He levels me with a flat look. “Lila, I could buy an entire landscaping company and have them redo this entire park overnight. Instead, I am here, in the dirt, receiving a performance review from your mother.” He exhales, running a hand through his slightly mussed hair. “If this isn’t love, I don’t know what is.”
Damn it, my heart squeezes.
I brush my fingers over his, squeezing lightly. “You’re doing great, babe.”
He glances at the plant, then back at me, deadpan. “Liar.”
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “No, really. You’ve got that rugged, hardworking man aesthetic going on. Very sexy. Dirt-streaked forearms? Rolled-up sleeves? It’s doing things for me.”
He quirks a brow, clearly not buying it, but more than happy to play along. “Oh? So all it takes is a little manual labour and suddenly I’m your fantasy?”
I lean in slightly, my voice dropping just enough to make his eyes darken. “Mmm. Maybe. Though I usually prefer men who know what they’re doing with their hands.”
His grip on the trowel tightens, and I swear I see his jaw clench.
