That’s how far I’ve fallen for her.
And as if she can read my mind, her hips begin to circle while her head falls back enough that her lips graze my cheek. Kissing it first, then saying three words that not only make my heart explode with pride but have me coming on impact.
“I love you.”
She said it.
She said those three words I thought I’d never hear her say.
I’ve wanted to.
Fantasized about it.
Even wanted to say them to her so many times but haven’t in fear that she’d feel pressured to say them back.
I spill into her and twist our bodies so we’re no longer looking up at the ceiling but are instead staring at each other, so I can look her in the eyes, when I say, “I love you, Sarina.”
“You’d better,” she hums, playfully, against my lips. All I can do is continue to kiss her in return, feeling speechless all of a sudden.
We lay in bed afterward, cuddling and looking at the city view from the floor-to-ceiling windows that dominate my penthouse. Existing in comfortable silence. Until I break it with an idea.
“So, I was thinking of something, getting back to what we were discussing before.”
Sarina springs up in bed. “Oh god, what?”
“Don’t worry, it’s not bad. Since this is nowourbed, and this isourroom, and my penthouse is no longer mine butours, we are due —well, overdue— for our first date.”
“Do you realize how ass-backward that sounds?”
I wrap her tighter in my arms, placing a kiss on her forehead. “You mean to tell me that getting married before saying I love you and going on a proper first date isn’t the correct order?”
“I mean…”
She giggles and as silly as I know it sounds I can’t help but feel convicted on this. “For once in my life, the correct order of doing things doesn’t mean a damn thing to me. I preferourway of doing things.”
Her lips fall to a pout. “Me too.”
“How’s tomorrow night?”
“Sure. What are you thinking?”
“That’s a surprise.”
She taps at my arm. “Tomás,” she whines. “At least give me a hint so I know how to dress. Speaking of, am I allowed back in my apartment to pick out an outfit?”
I almost forgot the borderline ridiculous stunt I pulled to get her here. Just as I’m about to tell her of course, she snaps her fingers.
“Wait, fancy or casual?”
“In between, I guess?”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re such a guy. How the hell does that answer help me any?”
I shrug.
“I could wear the jacket you gave me on our first unofficial date but make it all cute with a belt cinching in the waist and fitted dress underneath. Thoughts?”
I pull her in close, kissing the crown of her head. “You can wear whatever the hell you want, Mrs. Armani.”
