Page 191 of That Rush

“Debatable.”

He smiles and kisses my forehead. “Would you stay here more often?”

“I stay here.”

“Sometimes.”

“You want to critique my attendance record?”

“I want more mornings with you.”

Warmth tightens into caution. I lift my head and find him watching me with the same steady focus he gives every problem he plans to solve.

“How many mornings?”

“Most of them.”

There it is. One night becomes most mornings, and most mornings become the life he has already begun arranging around me.

“Aiden.”

“I’m asking.” His thumb strokes my hip. “Can you imagine waking up here most days?”

“With you?”

“With me. In this house. Josie down the hall.”

I can imagine it too easily. Sleepy kisses. Coffee on the porch. Josie climbing into bed with a book while Aiden complains that six in the morning is an unreasonable hour for dragons.

I can also imagine looking around one day and realizing my cabin belongs to someone else, my quiet hours have been folded into a family schedule, and every choice that built my life has been traded for a shared calendar.

“I can imagine more mornings,” I say. “I’m not ready to give up my cabin.”

“You don’t have to do that tomorrow.”

“That isn’t what I said.”

His thumb stops against my side. “Then tell me what you’re saying.”

“I love you. I want you, and tonight was everything I wanted it to be. I’m saying I haven’t decided that loving you means I should live here most of the time.”

He studies my face. “Do you think you’ll want that eventually?”

“I don’t know.”

“What about marriage?”

I blink. “Are you proposing while naked?”

“No.”

“Good, because I expect pants and an excellent speech.”

He gives a quiet laugh, but the question remains between us.

“I don’t expect you to plan a wedding,” he says. “I want to know if you can see one.”

“I can picture it. I can picture a dozen possible lives with you.” I slide my hand along his jaw. “That doesn’t mean I’m ready to choose one of them tonight.”