Page 37 of Soaring and Steadfast

“I am,” she murmured, nodding, eager to feel the cool water lap at her feet, to let it carry away the weight pressing on her soul. Maybe the beach was good for her. Maybe it was good forthem.

As they walked, Louis carried two towels and a tote bag she hadn’t noticed before. Of course, she hadn’t been paying attention. She’d been too wrapped up in him.

There was a quiet distance between them, an unspoken space he seemed determined to maintain. It was as if he was afraid to push her, to even touch on their conversation before because it was too much, to plummet over the invisible lines they’d drawn once again. But a part of her wanted him to push. To fight. To claim her, because the way he had whispered those raw, unexpected words, offering her a baby, had ignited something deep and uncontrollable within her.

Oh gosh. Her imagination was ablaze.

She was looking at Louis in an entirely different light now. Every glance sent her mind spiraling into forbidden thoughts. His hands—steady, strong—she imagined them tracing over her skin. His arms—solid, protective—she longed to be held against them. And those lips— those lips had the power to burn her from the inside out.

It wasn’t just that she wanted to see him smile, to hear him laugh. She wanted to know him in ways no one else did. She wanted to feel the sharp intake of his breath when he kissed her, to know if he would pull her close in the quiet afterglow of love, to wake up tangled in his arms as sunlight spilled through the window.

Louis was the kind of man who would stand strong when others broke, who carried his burdens with unwavering faith. She saw it in him, felt it in the way he moved, in the way he spoke. He wouldn’t falter in the face of chaos—he would be thecalm within the storm. And heaven help her, she wanted toleaninto that steadiness. Tocraveit and hold it for her own.

They reached a quiet stretch of beach, setting down their things in the sand, away from a family playing nearby. The waves called to her, and before she could second-guess herself, Louis reached for her hand, guiding her toward the water with that patient, knowing smile.

His restraint was infuriating.

“Don’t you ever want something?” she blurted, the words tumbling from her lips before she could stop them. Frustration crackled through her veins like a live wire. The teasing, the comments, the whispers between them, it was all too much. It was like he was blindly chumming the water, and she was distinctly feeling like a starving Jaws ready to attack. “I mean, crap, Louis, didn’t you ever peek at a present or rush into something blindly?”

He straightened, his entire body going still. Instantly, regret flooded her. She hadn’t meant for it to sound like an accusation.

“I’m sorry, it’s just?—”

Before she could finish, Louis yanked her to him with a force that stole her breath. The sand shifted beneath her feet, but she barely noticed. All she could feel was him—solid, warm, overwhelming.

“I want you,”he rasped, his voice rough with something raw and unrestrained. Then his mouth was on hers, claiming, devouring, desperate.

Heat exploded between them, a wildfire of sensation as he opened his mouth against hers, tasting her with a hunger that sent shivers cascading down her spine. His hands framed her face, fingers threading into her hair like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go.

And she understood.

She understood the trembling in his body, the way he held her as if she were something fragile and precious. Because this—whatever this was between them—it was powerful enough to shake them both.

Lila melted into him, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer as though she could absorb him into her very being. His arms tightened around her, wrapping her in heat, in want, in something so raw it stole the breath from her lungs. There was no hesitation, no slow build—just an all-consuming, desperate hunger that sent shivers cascading down her spine.

She didn’t just kiss him back—she met his urgency with her own, matched his longing, his need, his everything. It was a clash of passion and surrender, lips moving feverishly, bodies molding together as though they had been sculpted for this moment alone. His hand cupped the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair, holding her in place as if he feared she might disappear like a dream slipping from his grasp.

When he had teased her earlier about making an impression with a kiss, she had laughed, thinking it was nothing more than playful bravado. But now?

Mission accomplished, buddy.

The thought was wild, fleeting, barely forming before it was lost in the sensation of his lips parting hers, deepening the kiss, consuming her. The world faded, and everything else became insignificant. There was only Louis—his taste, his touch, his heartbeat thundering against her chest.

He kissed her like a man who had been starved of touch, who had wandered a barren desert only to find an oasis in her embrace. The intensity of it sent heat pooling low in her belly, her knees weakening as his grip tightened, anchoring her to him. There was nothing unsure about the way he held her, nothing uncertain in the way his mouth moved against hers.

It was a declaration.

A promise.

Between his words and this kiss, every doubt, every lingering question about what he wanted burned to ash. He wanted her. Desperately. Unapologetically. With a passion that stole the air from her lungs and made her dizzy with longing. And at that moment, she knew—this man would be insatiable in every way.

He would worship her, cherish her, and love her until there was no part of her left untouched by his devotion. The thought sent a delicious shiver through her, weakening her resolve as he pulled back just enough to whisper against her lips.

“Yeah, I want things,” he murmured, his voice hoarse, thick with meaning. His forehead pressed against hers, breaths mingling. “I wantthis. More ofthis. Thisforeverand a day. And yeah, I wantall of thisif it’s on the table between us.”

Her heart pounded, her fingers tracing the edge of his jaw, memorizing the feel of him.

“Oh, it’s definitely on the table…”

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