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"You'reawfulquiet,"Isay, watching Samara as she wanders aimlessly around the penthouse. She picks up a vase and then sets it down before moving to the bookcase. Her fingers trail along the spines of a row of books. Her mind is a million miles away.
It has been since we left the hospital an hour ago. She's anxious about tomorrow. I haven't told her yet that my brothers are coming. I'm not sure it'll help ease her mind any. Springing it on her is probably a dick move, but I'd rather pull a dick move than give her one more thing to fret over tonight.
She needs people in her corner tomorrow. If anything goes wrong, I want her surrounded by a wall of support until I can get to her. Between Troian, Gage, and my brothers, she'll be in good hands…and I need them there so I can do what I need to do. It's the only way I'll be able to focus on Scout and doing what I need to do to keep my promise.
There's a reason why surgeons don't operate on family. This is it. If there were anyone else capable of performing this surgery tomorrow, I'd step back and let them take over. But everyone else is hesitant to even try because Scout is so fragile. At this juncture, I'm her best hope…her only hope. So I'm performing the surgery in the morning. Once she's through it, we'll find her another doctor to take over, someone who knows what the fuck they're doing. But for now, that's me.
"Angel." I pace across the room toward Samara, linking our fingers together. "What are you thinking about?"
"You," she says, surprising me.
"Me?" I bring her fingers to my lips, kissing the pad of each one.
"You got Gage and Troian special approval to stay with Scout tonight," she says, staring at me with wide eyes. "You brought them here for me."
"I didn't want you to be alone tomorrow." I nip the pad of her thumb.
"You did it because you love me," she says, her voice strong, confident.
My lips tip up into a grin. "You're just figuring that out, huh?"
"No." She shakes her head. "I knew. I think I just found the courage to admit it to myself though." Her gaze flits across my face, her golden eyes filled with awe. "You love me."
"Yeah, I do," I whisper, tugging her closer to my body. "So if that freaks you out, I'm going to need you to get over it. Because it's not going to change anytime soon. My heart beats for you now. Whether you want me or not, I'm yours. I'll chase you to the ends of the earth if that's what it takes to make you see that you belong with me."
"What if…" She trails off, licking her lips. "What if…?"
"What if what?"
"What if I already see it?" Her breath trembles against my lips. "What if I already know I'm yours, Tate?" She pulls her hand from mine, lacing both of hers together around my neck. "What if I already love you back?"
"Fuck," I growl, gripping her hips in my hands. "Don't say it if you don't mean it, Samara."
She lifts up on her toes, her lips skimming across my jaw toward my ear. "I love you, Tate Grimes," she whispers in my ear. "I love you. I love you. I love—"
I cut her off, covering her mouth with mine. She topples into my chest with a soft cry, allowing me to lick my way into her mouth. I steal her breath, pulling her air into my lungs, swallowing her sounds down my throat. My hands flex around her hips as I fight for control. Every part of me wants to sweep her up into my arms, carry her into the bedroom, and make her mine. But it's a purely selfish desire…and I can't be selfish with her.
"Come on," I murmur, reluctantly breaking the kiss before I lose what little willpower I have. With her, it's so fucking easy to get carried away. As soon as I get my hands on her, the rest of the world falls away, narrowing to her and the feel of her beautiful body against mine. I forget everything else. But I can't do that tonight. She needs me to take care of her tonight, to be strong for her and Scout.
I lift her into my arms, carrying her through the penthouse into the bedroom. I stop long enough to hit the button to close the blinds over the windows, and then continue on into the bathroom. She settles against the vanity with a soft murmur.
"Easy," I say, brushing my lips across her temple.
I leave her long enough to start the shower. Hot water pours from the shower heads, steam billowing through the room.
"Jesus," I mutter, my heart rolling when I turn back to her. She looks like a water nymph perched on the vanity, wisps of steam dancing around her flushed face.
"What are you doing?" She watches me through slit lids, a soft, adoring smile on her face as I undress. Her golden eyes kiss my skin like a brand everywhere they touch. I feel them on me, searing me with her possession, with her light.
"Loving you," I say, prowling across the heated floor toward her. My mouth meets hers. We kiss once. Twice. A third time. I'm addicted to her mouth. As soon as I stop kissing it, I want to start all over again. No one warned me about this part of falling in love, the constant craving for contact. It's enthralling, consuming. I love every fucking thing about it.
Somehow, I manage to strip her between kisses. I run my hands down her body, touching her everywhere. I've held the smallest, most fragile hearts in my hands, and felt awe that something so small could be so powerful. I've been humbled and overjoyed, fought for the impossible and somehow prevailed. But nothing compares to the softness of her skin against my fingertips. Nothing compares to knowing this incredible woman trusts me with her heart.
I boost her into my arms, her legs around my waist. Our mouths meet again, tongues dancing together as I carry her into the shower. My dick is hard enough to hurt, but this isn't about him. It's about her.
The sound of pure bliss that tumbles from her lips when the hot water envelopes us will haunt every dream I have for the next five decades. She turns to putty in my arms.
I slide her down my body to her feet, anchoring her to me with one arm. "Relax," I whisper against her temple. "Let me take care of you tonight."
