She trusts me with this.
With her.
I look at her sitting there on the blanket, hair mussed, lips swollen, eyes steady even with fear still living in them. Not asking me to fix her. Not begging me to make the pain stop.
Choosing.
I lean in slowly, bracing one hand beside her hip.
“You understand what this means to me?”
Her throat moves. “Sex?”
“No.” My voice comes out rough. “Not just sex. Not if it’s your first. Not if it’s me.”
Her breath catches.
“You let me be your first, love, and I don’t pretend it didn’t happen tomorrow. I don’t let you walk out of this room thinking you were a bad night and a weak moment.” My hand slides to her waist, firm enough to make her breath catch. “You leave this floor branded by me. Mine.”
Her eyes widen.
I don’t soften it.
Can’t.
“You hear what I’m saying?”
“Yes.”
“Say it back.”
Her lips part. “If you’re my first, I’m yours.”
Mine.
The word moves through me like a match dropped in gasoline.
“Forever,” I tell her.
Her breath shivers out.
“That’s insane.”
“Yeah.”
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
She stares at me.
Then, because she’s Talia, because she’s my little hellcat and apparently born to ruin my control, she lifts her chin.
“Then make it worthwhile.”
The last thread snaps.
I kiss her hard enough to take the words from her mouth.
