Page 15

Cuss. “—yeah,” he mutters, pulling out a large cinnamon roll. Unraveling it into a snake, he tears a bite out of the soft pastry and holds it up to my lips.

Obediently star-struck, I accept the morsel, lifting the hand that isn’t on him to grasp it so I can nibble my way through, blissful.

“You’re quiet this morning,” Wynnter says, licking glaze off his thumb.

“I…” Am very busy replaying the action of him licking his fingers in my brain. “…am?”

“You’re literally gone for me. I can’t believe this. After, what, a decade or more of tormenting me any way you knew how, you’re suddenly perfectly submissive?” He nudges the bag to reference it. “Bringing me treats. Staring at me as though you’re afraid I’ll disappear if you breathe too hard.”

I flush. “Well…no…I…just…” The carpet becomes incredibly interesting. “You…”

“Hmm?” He leans in, licking glaze from his lips and giving my brain something else to replay. “What’s that? Speak up, pretty girl. I can’t hear you falling over yourself for me.”

Naturally, I squeak. “This.”

“This?”

“I’m a bluffer. A no good, lousy bluffer. I can’t handle what I dish out. I also still can’t really believe this is happening. Yesterday, I replayed what you did to me, over and over, and if I hadn’t had your shirt in my hands, I would have convinced myself none of it could have possibly happened. I’d have convinced myself it was all just another one of my daydreams or night dreams or outright delusions.”

“I know. That’s why I gave you my shirt. I wanted you to sit in my clothes and grapple with the reality of having something that touched every part of me hug every inch of you.”

I shudder, freezing, even though Wynnter’s got a roaring fire going in his hearth. Reedy, I whisper, “I’m sorry I’m not behaving normally. I just… I’m overwhelmed. I’ll try to do better if you like it when I tease you…but I’m just a little worried what might happen if you don’t…stop me.”

Delighted, he drags his arm off the back of the couch, hooks it around my waist, and rakes me up onto his thigh, adjusting the bag of food as he tucks me against his chest. His lips graze my forehead. “You hid this timidness well. You’ve always been so bold with me. You convinced me there was no way you liked me like this. I knew you couldn’t do what you did and think of me like a brother, but still. I’d get as close as I dared, hold my breath, and beg you to crack. Some days, I told myself if you blushed, that’d be my cue.”

“Your cue?”

“Permission, I guess. To ravish you or something.” He eats his way through the unraveled cinnamon roll. “You never did, though. You never broke.”

“I never let myself hope.”

He swears. “That’s depressing.” Turning my face, he blesses me with a rough, quick kiss that tastes like pure sugar, then he rifles through the bag some more. “I’m not gonna let you do anything you might regret while you’re so clearly infatuated. If I were weak like that, I’d have done a heck of a lot more to you when you were drunk. The other day, I wouldn’t have kissed you at all yet if you hadn’t already given your first twenty kisses to me when you were out of your mind.” He gets one of the muffins I bought out and rips it in half, sending crumbs to settle on my skirt, then he presses the fluffy bread to my lips, peering at me. “You can do whatever you want to me, and I’ll mildly restrain myself with you.”

I take my half of the muffin. “M-mildly?”

“Mildly,” he promises, biting into his half. “Just enough to keep us from potentially starting a family before we’ve had a good, long, proper talk about how many babies you wanna have for me.”

With that promise gleaming in my skull, I dare to settle my head against his shoulder. His heat soaks into my flesh, and I close my eyes. Nibbling my muffin, I snuggle, letting tension leave me as the idea of starting a family with him blows me away.

He’s here. He’s close. He wants me. He wants a future with me. He wants to know what I want that future to look like. He’s…just…so…everything. “Wynn-Wynn,” I whisper.

Swear. “—yeah, baby?”

“I love you.” The words hurt as they leave me, and I don’t know why. It’s like they’re burning in my chest still, even though I’ve freed them. Maybe they’re too simple to really explain how I feel about this man who has always been there for me. Stable. And familiar. And safe. And all the things I’ve ever dreamed about.

I’ve watched him care for August and me for ages. I’ve seen his coarse attitude up close and melted at the way it breaks for the people he loves. He’s so capable. And sure. And self-sufficient.

I’ve never met a man both so confident and so kind before.

His pride is so starkly different from the corrosive sort I’ve seen my father display. My father’s pride is loud. Flamboyant. Laced in disgust for those he deems beneath him. In contrast, Wynnter’s is internalized. He treats everyone with the same detached respect and no one like they’re beneath him for any superficial reasons.

He loves without condition.

If he chooses to love you, you can’t break that by wearing the wrong clothes or picking the wrong company or doing the wrong thing.

It’s easier with him.

Feeling loved is easier with him.