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Throat tight, I whisper-squeak back, “It is, isn’t it?”
His eyes are earnest as he nods. “Can’t promise you it’ll be perfect, but….”
I nod, too. Swallow hard. Fit my hand to his charmingly scruffy face. “But it’ll be us. You and me and her.”
“Yep.” His hand covers mine, and I admire the ring on his finger before I delight in the kiss he turns into my palm. “And we three are very, very good at being us. We’ve proved it time and time again.”
I give him a heartfelt smile.
He is so…
…good at kissing.
As his lips meld with mine, my hand leaves his cheek to close around the back of his neck. His fingers drift over my knuckles, my arm, my side—he pulls me close and pulls his mouth from mine right after he licks my bottom lip, which makes me groan.
He chuckles and then says lowly, “I feel like being reminded of how goodyou and Iare at being‘us.’”
“Me, too,” I say in kind.
I scoot around enough that he understands I want his body on mine, and after he’s gotten it there, I take another few seconds to look at him.
I think this has become my favorite position with him.
Until he captured my heart, I didn’t think such a thing could ever, ever be possible.
I can’t say it never made me nervous even after our amazing first time, but my reason was always the same as then: I simply didn’t want the fear to end up ruling me. And just like then, he eased me. Every time, thewholetime, he helped me fight for the intimacy I wanted, because for as silly and cheerful and relaxed as Landon can be, he can also be the strongest of safeguards and the most powerful of souls. He can soothe the shadowed child in me when she shows her face and then, seconds later, bring all the rest of me back into the light with him, where I belong.
And he knows it.
He ends his own study of my face with a kiss to my forehead, my temple. Then, “I love you,” is dancing into my ear.
I hear the unspoken, ever-present promise those words carry at all times, but especially when he’s on me this way:‘You can trust me with you.’
My, “I love you back,” promises that I believe him before my lips seek out his.
A thumping heartbeat later, his tongue finds mine, and his hips press promises of their own against me, and my hands go down his back only to promptly come up with his shirt….
Oh, the golden freedom—the beautiful knowledge that I’mnota little girl anymore, not helpless, not trapped. That I’m grown and sheltered and treasured and wrapped up in a moment of magnificent heat with the man who holds my heart, whose skin I want to taste, muscles I want to feel, moans I want to hear….
It’s made more brilliant by the knowledge that he feels his own golden freedom because of me.
Yes, the he-and-I version of‘us’is damn good.
*
It’s here.
God, it’s here.
Sunday.
It’s Sunday, and it’s time to pick up Rae.
We’ve just pulled up at the Kinley residence. Landon is turning the car off and I’m shaking because I’m nervous. I mean, we aren’t going to talk to Raehere, but still.
Now that he isn’t driving anymore, he can stop trying to settle me with words and take my face in his hands, make me look him in the eyes. “Liv-Andria.”
“Landon,” I rush back.
