Page 74 of Crave Me

“Love?”

Her tone is barely audible, and there’s a great deal behind what she’s asking. I don’t back-peddle or dismiss the word. “That’s right,” I say, feeling her grow rigid. “We gave into our physical desires rather quickly, but it didn’t ruin the friendship that had begun or the feelings that followed. You mean everything to me and I want you with me.”

She shifts her position so she can see me. “It’s only been a few months,” she reminds me.

“Perhaps. But I know what I feel and I want us to grow closer.” My lips brush against her hair. “Even more than we are.”

She rests her chin on her hand, appearing to give what I tell her a great deal of thought. “At the very least, stay with me until your brother returns from his promotional tour,” I whisper. “If you want to return home then, I’ll let you.”

“You’ll let me, huh?”

I laugh when she does. “You know what I mean. If you need your space, I’ll understand and respect your decision.”

“You won’t be mad and fire my ass?”

My humor fades although she means to make me laugh. “I only want you to be safe.”

Traces of her worry return, dulling her features. “Me, too,” she says.

As the quiet spreads, I’m almost certain we’ll return to sleep. “Evan . . . tell me something about you.”

“Like what? I’ll tell whatever you want to know.”

She tilts her head. “Why don’t you ever talk about your parents? You seem to avoid mentioning them.”

“Some things are too hard to speak of,” I reply.

“I think I know what you mean,” she says. “But I’ll admit, I’m surprised to hear you say it.”

“Why?”

“Because of who you are.” She kisses my sternum, her lips barely grazing the skin. “Everything that makes you, you must’ve been shaped by someone special.”

“And what am I?” I ask.

She lifts off me, smiling in a way she never has before now. “You’re the best man I know,” she whispers.

I don’t move. Despite hard work and my many accomplishments, nothing has ever meant more.

The edges of her hair trail against my chest as she climbs on top of me, our mouths immediately finding each other. We take our time, exploring each other and allowing our passion to build.

A soft moan vibrates in her throat as I harden beneath her. I should pour my heart out between kisses and confess everything I feel—for her and everything she does for me, and how I’ve only grown stronger with her at my side. Mostly, I want to tell her that I can’t imagine life without her.

Instead, I flip her onto her back, slipping my arm beneath her waist and penetrating her deep. Her hands shoot up, her palms pressing against the headboard to keep her in place. She seems so delicate beneath my weight and large frame. But as always her strength is never far from the surface.

“You’re holding back, bossman,” she tells me, nibbling on the soft spot behind my ear.

I groan when she bears down and her body fastens around me like a vice. “Would you prefer I try harder?” I ask, driving forward and giving her nipple a tug.

Her hands slip away from the headboard to grip the sheets, her grunts of passion urging me faster.

Every thrust and touch, demonstrates what I fail to say.

I love you, Wren, and I want you to marry me.

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