“I ambeyondin love with you, too.”
My eyes flutter shut. A man who once promised he was not built to love anyone has somehow decided that he loves me.
So, that’s how that feels. Knowing someone means what they’re saying. Knowing someone feels the same way.Beingin love rather than just falling into it. Like a burst of serotonin. Like a headrush. Like someone stealing your breath right out of your body and sending it up to the clouds.
His lips find my forehead, and he tugs me to his chest, cupping his hand around the back of my head.
He loves me.
Boston Black loves me!
I’m officially the most powerful woman in the world.
I bury my face in his chest, inhaling the scent of him. “When did you realize?”
“I don’t know,” he murmurs, kissing my hair now. “Probably about the time you stormed onto the ice in ten-inch heels and introduced yourself to me.”
I snort. “Liar.”
He chuckles, running his hand down my hair. “On that roof, I think. When I got my first glimpse behind the curtain.”
When I was a mess. When I was overwhelmed about what I didn’t have, and what I’d lost. When I was, for the first time in a long time, brutally honest about being afraid. About being disappointed in myself. About not being certain I was as great as I pretend to be.
“I’m guessing you talked to my brother.”
“I did,” he says quietly. “Thanks for sticking up for me.”
I squeeze him tighter. Those memories again, they flood in. Their fight at the bar. Our fight in the kitchen. All of those things I screamed at Carter, reminding him who his friend is. Reminding him that they’re so close because Boston is a good man. A good person. A great friend.
“Did he apologize?”
Boston nods against my hair. “Profusely.”
“Good. I’ll take him off my hit list, then.”
“Come on,” he grumbles, pulling back to look at me. “You’d never harm a single hair on his crazy head.”
That isn’t true, is it? I stood between Boston and my brother armed with a shard of glass. A weapon. Now, you and I both know that I would have never used it, but I still held it like I would have. I still threatened to. I actively pursued Boston, too, got what I wanted, and then pursued him some more, knowing it would hurt my brother.
His smile slowly fades, as if reading my thoughts. “You wouldn’t. Not intentionally.”
I offer a gentle smile. “He’s okay with this?”
Boston dips his cup, cupping my jaw with both hands. “He’s okay with this.”
“You’reokay with this?” I ask.
He nods, leaning in closer and brushing his lips against mine. “Yeah, sweetheart. I am.”
“And you love me?”
He smiles against my mouth, kissing me for real this time. “Yeah, sweetheart. I do.”
“And you will do everything I ask for the rest of my life?”
He kisses me again. “Sure, Ari. Whatever you want.”
I grin, hauling myself to his mouth, making him kiss me like he loves me. I wind my arms around his neck, and Boston groans against my lips. His hands slide to rest right above my ass, lazy but possessive. I don’t know if I can convey to you how badly I’ve been starved for his touch. On all the slopes of my body and divots of my skin, the parts of me that only he has ever managed to touch. My heart, most of all.
