Page 87 of Desperate Actions

“Holy shit!”

She steps outside. I watch as Aella steps onto the patio, her fingers trailing over the stone table, the soft breeze catching in her hair, making her look almost unreal, like something out of a dream.

The outdoor space is perfectly designed. A working sink and prep station, a grill and smoker, all beneath a covered cobblestone patio leading to a heated in-ground pool and hot tub.

But there’s another hot tub inside, tucked into a sunroom with a working fireplace and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the woods.

I like to swim.

I like to soak.

And I know she does too.

I built this home with her in mind, long before I ever had the right to claim her.

I built it for us.

And now?

I finally get to share it with her.

I feel it in my bones—the tight coil of pride, the relief, the deep, overwhelming need to see her happy here.

I didn’t just want a house that suited my needs.

I wanted a home she could fall in love with.

A home where she’d never feel like a guest.

I want her to see herself in it, to put her mark on it.

I want her to claim this place.

To claim me.

Aella’s eyes are wide as she takes it all in, her jaw slack with something like wonder.

Goddamn.

It wrecks me.

I don’t realize how much I needed her to like it until now.

Until I see the spark of excitement in her gaze, the way she inhales softly, like she’s already imagining herself here, already fitting herself into the space.

I bite the inside of my cheek, keeping myself in check, keeping the words I want to say locked behind my teeth.

But inside? Inside, I am fucking dying.

I can’t wait for her to fill this place with her presence. To leave her sweaters draped over the couch, her books stacked on the nightstand, her watermelon sugar scent woven into every goddamn room.

I want to hear her laughter in the kitchen, see her bare feet on the marble floors, wake up to the sound of her singing in the shower.

I want to find traces of her everywhere.

In the way she rearranges the furniture, the way she throws a blanket over the armrest because she likes to snuggle up on the couch, the way she leaves little messes in the bathroom because she’s rushing to get ready for work.

I want it all.

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