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I cup his face in my hand. “On one condition.”

“Anything.”

“You be honest with me from here on in.”

His eyes search mine.

“I need to know what’s going on in your head, or we won’t make it, Hen.”

A trace of a smile crosses his face as he takes my hand in his.

I smile, too, and in that moment, I know it’s going to be okay between us.

“Kiss me,” I whisper. He leans over and kisses me. His face screws up against mine as if overwhelmed with emotion.

My beautiful, tortured king, so messed up.

So fucking lovable.

An ocean of vulnerability swimming between us.

“Henley.” I put my hand under his chin and bring his face to mine. “We can do this.”

He closes his eyes as if to block me out.

“Hen,” I demand. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

He drags his eyes open.

“Love me back,” I whisper. “Like I know you can.” I kiss him softly. My tongue gently swipes through his open lips, and I kiss him again. “I just need you to always be honest with me. If something is bothering you, just tell me.”

His kiss deepens, and then, as if remembering something, he pulls back to look at me. “Are we starting the honesty thing right now?”

I nod. “Uh-huh.”

“Then take it off.”

“What?” I frown.

“The makeup that you put on for him.”

It bothers him that I’m all dressed up to go on a date with another man.

I would be too.

“You mean the makeup I put on while I was thinking of you?” I smile softly.

He points upstairs. “Wash it off. All of it.”

“I’m going to need to take a shower.”

“Probably.” He narrows his eyes as he acts serious.

Excitement rushes through my veins. “You’re going to need to get in with me to help.”

“Definitely.”

We stare at each other, excitement buzzing between us, the air crackling with promise.

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