Page 106 of Isla

"I've had this planned since the moment I met you, Isla."

Something in his face stops me from blowing him off. "What do you mean? You planned how you were going to have sex with me the first second you saw me behind the bar last year?"

"I planned exactly how I was going to do a lot of things with you, Isla. To you. For you."

"That's ridiculous, Henry."

"I didn't believe in love at first sight until that night," he says, the admission tumbling from his lips.

My heart thumps, and I bury my head in his chest, my cheeks on fire. What do I say to the man who just said the words I’ve dreamed of hearing since I was a little girl?

"Thank you, Henry. Thank you for not playing it cool, for not pretending to be someone you aren't. You have no idea how much those words mean to me. And for what it's worth, I think I fell in love with you a little that day, too." I push myself up on my elbow, stretching to kiss him. The warmth of his hand cupping my neck makes me shiver.

"Time to go home, baby. You're cold." He helps me up, then lifts me into his arms like I barely weigh anything.

"Sleep with me tonight?" I ask, pressing my cheeks to his chest.

"Isla–"

"Just sleep, Henry. Nothing else."

"How can I refuse when you look at me like that?"

"The same way you can refuse to have sex with me for what seems like an eternity."

"Just wait, Isla. In twenty-four hours, I'll be blowing your mind." He looks down at me, a dark gleam in his eyes.

"Is that a promise?"

"It's an oath."

53

*Henry's POV*

I wake up with a web of scarlet hair tangled over my face, shining like fire in the morning sun. I'm on my side with Isla tucked into my shoulder, her forehead pressed to my chest. She's such a tiny thing. It makes me worry about tonight. I'm wavering between fear that I'll hurt her and the absolute burning need that's been scorching my insides since the moment I met her. I lightly trace the freckles on her cheek with my thumb, rocked by the realization that I would do anything for this tiny, prickly, snoring creature. And I do mean anything. I push myself up on my elbow, trying not to disturb her. Swinging my legs over, I straddle her calves with my knees as I slowly slide my arm from beneath her. I freeze as she shifts in her sleep, mumbling something, then sighing. She's so fucking beautiful that it makes my heart hurt. I replace my body with a pillow and tuck the covers around her before tiptoeing out of the room.

Today has to be perfect, and every perfect day begins with a good breakfast. At least that's what I'm telling myself right now. I start the coffee first, then rummage around the kitchen, filling my backpackwith everything I need before scrawling a quick note for Isla, filling the thermos with coffee, and heading down to the beach.

Forty minutes later, I have a fire going on the sand, and everything is laid out and ready to go. The second I see her silhouette high on the cliff, I put the griddle over the fire, heating it until it's smoking before laying out six strips of bacon. Next, I dip the bread Dylan made the other night into an egg mixture, coating it well before tossing it on the griddle. I don't add the eggs until I flip the bacon and French toast, careful not to overcook them. I'm plating the food just as Isla steps onto the beach.

"Perfect timing," I murmur, grinning up at her as I slide her eggs onto the plate and hand it to her.

"Good morning to you, too." She takes her plate and, not waiting for me to stand, wraps her arms around my neck, burying my face in her breasts. I breathe her in like an absolute maniac, my mouth watering at the thought of pulling one of those perfect nipples into my mouth. She pulls away, takes the fork I hand her, and plops down on the sand, moaning as she takes her first bite.

"You didn't need to do this, but I'm not complaining. You cook a damn good breakfast, Henry."

"I'm glad you think so since I'm going to cook breakfasts for you for the rest of your life." I chuckle as she raises an eyebrow as if she's expecting a proposal right here and now. And hell, maybe I should. It's not like I haven't been thinking about it since I saw her behind the bar last year. No other woman has even crossed my mind since then.

I take her left hand and hold it up to the morning light, admiring the ring that somehow mirrors her personality. "He did good, didn't he?"

"Did you notice the prongs that look like thorns?" she asks, eyes sparkling. I take a closer look, and sure enough, the prongs are sharp little claws clasping a stone the same color as her eyes.

"It couldn't be more perfect, could it?" I pull her hand to my mouth, kissing her ring finger. "Finish up before it gets cold," I say, picking up my plate and taking a gigantic bite. I pour a mug of coffee from the travel thermos, and we share it as we stare out at the waves,the tranquility of the morning muffling everything but right this moment.

"Thank you, Henry," she whispers, the softness of her voice barely breaking the silence. "This is incredibly romantic."

"What's romantic is you and me rolling around on this beach," I mutter under my breath. I grunt as her body slams into me, taking me by surprise. She tries to push me down, but I hold her beneath me, pinning her down with my hips, her wrists locked over her head.

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