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I leaned down and kissed the base of her neck, her pulse throbbing beneath my lips. She shivered, but this time with afterglow, not anticipation. I slid out slowly, careful not to hurt her, but even then, she whimpered at the loss.

She immediately rolled onto her back, eyes closed, lips parted. I watched her chest rise and fall, the flush on her skin, the small, satisfied smile sneaking onto her face. My eyes scanned her body, memorizing her, before my protective instinct kicked in. I padded to the bathroom, splashed water on my face, cleaned myself up, and returned with a damp washcloth warmed under the tap.

She hadn’t moved an inch in my absence. She was still sprawled out, arms above her head like she’d surrendered to the night. I sat beside her, and she opened her eyes, watching as I gently wiped her inner thighs, using soft strokes to soothe where I’d been rough. She stared at me, silent and vulnerable, until the job was done.

I tossed the washcloth aside, lay next to her, and drew the sheets over us both. Her head found my chest automatically, the weight of her cheek a perfect fit beneath my collarbone. We stayed like that, letting the world outside our nest fade to nothing.

Then I felt her tense, every muscle coiled. She lifted her head, her eyes meeting mine with a wild intensity.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, having no clue what could have caused the sudden change in demeanor.

“We didn’t use a condom.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t even thought about it. Now that I was, it surprised me that I wasn’t in cold sweat panic. I felt…calm. Happy. No regrets.

She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. “I never forget. Never. I’m on the shot, but…” her jaw clenched, eyes trained on the ceiling. “Pregnancy’s not my only concern.”

She looked at me, and for the first time since meeting her, I saw true fear—edge-of-the-knife, control-stripped fear—in her expression.

I ran my hand up her back, keeping my tone gentle. “I haven’t been with anyone in almost a year. Had a full blood panel last month for my insurance renewal. I’m clean, Mikayla.”

“People say that.” Her voice was barely there. “But sometimes they’re wrong.”

“I have the paperwork. I can show you and I can go get tested tomorrow, if that would make you feel better.”

“I just… I never wanted to be that girl,” she said. The words were sharp, but what came next was even sharper: “I promised myself I’d never get carried away and be so stupid.”

I reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, not sure what the right move was but needing to do something. “You’re not stupid. I should have remembered too. I’m sorry.”

I pulled her against me, bracing for the slightest resistance. But she came willingly, folding into my arms like she'd been holding herself together by sheer force of will and had finally run out of strength.

She buried her face against my chest, shutting out a world that had already taken too much from her. I tightened my arms around her, one hand moving in slow, steady circles over her back. I didn't ask her to talk. Didn't try to fix what had happened. For once, I understood that loving her didn't mean having the right words. Sometimes it meant knowing when to be quiet.

The hours slipped by without another kiss, another touch that asked for more, or a single word between us. Just her breathing against my skin, my heartbeat beneath her cheek, and two people trying to find their way back to something that felt safe.

Eventually, sleep claimed her.

I was almost there myself when she stirred, her hand sliding across my chest until it found my heart. Then she sighed and settled against me again. Such a small thing. Such a devastatingly beautiful thing.

This woman had learned to protect herself by keeping the world at a distance. She'd built walls I was only beginning to understand. Yet here she was, asleep in my arms, trusting me to hold her through the dark.

I pressed my lips to her forehead and closed my eyes. I didn't know how long it would take her to believe I wasn't going anywhere. But I knew one thing with absolute certainty. I wanted to be the man she reached for in her sleep and the one she trusted enough to wake up beside.

25

EMOTIONALLY UNAVAILABLE SOFT GLAM

Mikayla

As I sat, waiting for my turn to get my hair and makeup done, I’d come to several conclusions. Weddings were logistical nightmares disguised as celebrations. Waterproof mascara was one of humanity’s greatest inventions. And falling in love with a man who was contractually obligated to stop being my boyfriend tomorrow sucked.

“Mikayla!”

I looked up from my phone to find my cousin Julissa standing in front of me wearing a white silk robe that said BRIDE in rhinestones on the back, a tiara, and an expression that suggested she was approximately four seconds away from having a meltdown. Another meltdown.

Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined my logical, laid-back, relentlessly optimistic cousin turning into a full-blown bridezilla. Yet here we were. Apparently, a wedding could transform even the most reasonable woman into a tiara-wearing dictator with the emotional stability of a toddler denied a nap. More than once, I’d considered reenacting Cher’s iconic slap-snap-out-of-it scene from Moonstruck. So far, restraint had prevailed. But the day was young, and I wasn't making any promises.

I inhaled slowly as I arranged my face into something resembling patience and prepared to handle whatever wedding-related catastrophe had Julissa on the verge of tears. “What?”