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He doesn’t seem fazed at all, just cradles my head in his hand and presses his lips to my forehead. “Impossible. You’re already everything I want.”
His words make my stomach twist. I pull back just enough to look up at him. “How can you be sure?”
He smiles down at me like I’m the most absurd, adorable creature he’s ever encountered. “I’m not as tentative as you,” he says warmly. “When I’m sure of something, I don’t second-guess it until I’m not sure anymore.”
I look down at his chest so I don’t have to meet his gaze and murmur, “I don’t know what to be sure of anymore.”
He grabs my chin, tilting it up so I have to look at him. His green eyes are serious. “You can be sure of me.”
My heart lurches, then his head dips, and his lips meet mine. It’s a gentle kiss, one that makes me feel loved and cherished.
When the kiss ends, he stays close and murmurs against my lips. “I will always be there for you, Sophie. Whether you want me to be or not.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Sophie
Sunlight peeks through the window, but the curtains are still closed.
Silvan sits on the bed behind me in a pair of gray sweats, his legs spread so I can sit between them.
He got me a soft gray dress to wear today, but I’m not wearing it yet. I’m still naked with just the sheets and fur blanket covering me from the waist down. My breasts are bare, and Silvan periodically stops moving his fingers through my hair to reach around and palm one. To hold my in-progress braid tight and slide his hand down my stomach until it’s nestled between my thighs and I’m pulled back against him.
It’s taking a little longer, but I’m not complaining.
“You’re gonna make us late for breakfast.”
He gasps, mocking me. “Not late for breakfast.”
I reach back and smack his thigh.
He chuckles, pulling my braid tight in his fist and tugging me back so he can lean in and murmur close to my ear, “They can wait.”
Chills travel down my spine at his breathy rumble. I lick my lips. “I’ve never had a guy braid my hair before.”
“I wouldn’t expect you had.”
“Because you think I’ve only dated guys with short hair?”
“Because I think you’ve only dated self-involved assholes.”
“Oh. Well, I probably can’t argue that, but I actuallyhavegone out with a guy with long hair. Not for long, just a couple of weeks when I was fifteen. He’d been to New York City, and I’d never been anywhere, so he seemed worldly to me. He smoked cigarettes which was gross, but also kind of added to his bad boy allure. He was two years older and… well, an asshole, but he had great hair. Long and blond, like a pretty lion.”
“He sounds like an idiot.”
I crack a smile at his grouchy tone. “You don’t know anything about him.”
“I know he let you go after two weeks. That’s all the information I need.”
“MaybeIdumpedhim, did you consider that?”
“Irrelevant. He accepted it and let you go.”
“That’s a normal reaction to being dumped,” I inform him.
“Yeah, well, you can try dumping me and see how that works out for you.”
“I feel like I tried that before I even agreed—under coercion—to be your girlfriend.”
