Page 94 of Scarred Crown

Her lips skim my earlobe, and goosebumps rise across my skin. God, I want her. When she draws back, my lips catch hers, and she sinks into me. She digs her hands into my hair and presses her chest against mine.

“Say it again,” I rasp, and trail my lips along her exposed neck.

“I wanted you. Just you.”

When I rise from the chair with her in my arms, she clings to my neck and wraps her legs around my waist. Finding her mouth again, I keep half an eye on the route to the bed while sneaking a hand up the back of her shirt. With a flick of my fingers, the clasp of her bra releases.

She laughs into my mouth. “I’m not sure I’ve ever had a guy do that quite so smoothly.”

“I tell you,” I say, nuzzling her ear before laying her down on the bed. “You’ll be writing my name across the stars.”

When I glance down at her, she’s biting her lip.

“You’re not sure.” I try to back off her, but she clutches my forearm.

“I’m sure I want you,” she whispers.

“So what aren’t you sure about?” I stretch out beside her and ease my hand along her stomach.

“There’s still a voice in my head that worries we’ll screw this up.”

I put my hand over my heart. “For my part, I’m in this. I’m in. I’m not backing out.” The words I want to say rise into my throat. After only a few weeks, I can’t tell her I’m in love with her. Still in love with her. “I know how I felt about you at sixteen, and I’m confident I can feel that again.” Because I never stopped.

I’m not worried about myself at all. Am I worried about her? As long as we’re honest with each other from now on, I can’t see how this can go wrong. We’re married. We’re a team. The roar of the crowd doesn’t matter if we’ve got each other to keep us steady.

She traces the curve of my jaw. “I think I can feel that way again too.”

“Then we’ve got nothing to worry about.” I smooth her hair and stare into her eyes that I love so much. “Trust me?”

“More than anyone else in the world.”

Julia

They’re the words we once used to comfort and encourage each other, and they feel right in this moment, but I’m not sure they’re true yet. How can they be? We’ve only started being real with each other. No matter what he says, there’s a lingering doubt in me. Alex was a mistake, and it cost me dearly, but I can’t help feeling like Nick shoved me aside too. I disappointed him, and he cut me out. What happens the next time I don’t measure up?

There’s a glassy sheen to his pretty hazel eyes, and he strokes my cheek with his thumb. “Jesus, what’d we do to each other, Jules?”

My heart squeezes at the regret in his deep voice. The question cuts to the quick. For the first time since our friendship broke apart, I’ve realized I wasn’t the only one breaking. We really did shatter each other, and we’re finally gluing the pieces back together.

I hope this glue holds.

Instead of answering him, I sink my fingers into the back of his hair and draw his mouth down to mine. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Nick’s kisses, it’s that they are capable of making me lose all sense of time and place. Right now, I don’t want to think or dwell on the decisions we need to make.

He’s my husband, and I’ve been silently battling a fierce vein of protectiveness since we discovered our blunder on the plane. How can I claim something I don’t remember doing? But I’m done fighting my instincts.

Nick is mine. He’s mine in a way I never thought I’d achieve—not even when we were as close as two friends could get. If we re-cement our bond, turn it into concrete, no one else will ever get a look in, no one else will ever know him again the way that I will. It’s a heady sensation to realize the boy I once loved so fiercely can be the man I get to love forever.

I just hope he ends up loving me enough in return.

When he seems hesitant to go further, I draw his shirt over his head and toss it on the floor. He watches it land and then meets my gaze, the question in his eyes.

My stomach flutters in anticipation. He’s not going to push for anything I don’t want to give. All signs point to yes, but he wants to hear it. Just a few days ago, I told him I couldn’t be with him like this, but now I don’t know how I’ve resisted. Every inch of my body wants every inch of his.

“Are you going to ice this cake?” I tease, and I pop the top button of my jeans.

“Ice the cake?” He raises his eyebrows, and his index finger skims across my waistband.

A shiver of anticipation races through me. I bite the inside of my cheek. “Or eat it.”