Page 115 of Pretty When He Bleeds

And then—

“I love you.”

My whole body locks up. Damon doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe for a second, like he’s just realizing he said it out loud.

I lean back slightly, looking at him, his green eyes raw and glassy, his lips slightly parted like maybe he wants to take it back, like maybe he’s afraid of what I’ll do with it.

“Say it again,” I whisper.

His jaw clenches and his hands tighten on my back. “Roman—”

“Say it again.”

Damon exhales sharply, shaking his head once before he finally looks me in the eyes, his grip steady, his expression stripped bare. “I love you, Roman.”

I breathe out, my hands coming up to cradle his face, my thumbs brushing over the dampness under his eyes, and then I kiss him.

It’s slow and deep, filled with everything I can’t fucking say—everything I feel, everything I know. His fingers tighten in my hair, holding on like I’m something real, something constant. I kiss him as if to convey the fact that I fucking am. He’s mine, I’m his.

And Caleb fucking knew.

Damon’s fingers dig into my back, his body still trembling slightly as I kiss him like I’m trying to pour every fucking emotion into him, every unsaid word, every shattered piece I’ve been holding onto.

I don’t care that my face is wet, that my chest still feels tight from Caleb’s words. I don’t care that my hands are shaking as I hold him. I just need this. Need him.

Damon’s lips part against mine, and he exhales sharply, like he’s releasing something heavy, something he’s been carrying alone for too fucking long. I press my forehead to his, my breath coming in short, uneven bursts. My hands cradle his face, my thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, wiping away the wetness there.

His eyes are squeezed shut, his jaw tight, and I can feel the way he’s fighting against this, against the way his body wants to break apart. “You still with me?” I whisper.

Damon lets out a shaky breath, nodding once. “Yeah.”

I don’t push him for more. Instead, I trail my fingers down his neck, over the sharp line of his collarbone, feeling the way his pulse hammers beneath my touch. He’s here. He’s real.

And he fucking loves me.

I swallow hard, my throat still thick with emotion. “Say it again.”

Damon chuckles low, shaking his head like I’m fucking impossible. “I love you,” he murmurs, softer this time.

I breathe out, my chest aching in a way I can’t explain. My hands slide down to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath my palms. I press against him slightly, watching the way his pupils blow wide.

“Say it one more time,” I whisper.

There’s something softer in his expression now, something almost fond. He exhales, tilting his head back slightly before meeting my gaze again. “I love you, Roman Bishop,” he repeats like he’s finally settling into the words and letting himself believe them.

I lean in, pressing my lips to the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, then his throat. “Good,” I murmur. “Because you’re stuck with me now.”

His arms tighten around me, and I feel the way his body relaxes slightly beneath mine. “I fucking hope so. Now say it back.”

I bark out a laugh and pull him close before whispering against his lips, “I love you, too.”

For a long moment, we just stay like that, wrapped up in each other, breathing the same air, letting the weight of everything settle between us. And then, because I’m a little shit and I can’t let the moment stay serious for too long, I lean back and smirk.

“Caleb called it, huh?” I tease, nudging his jaw with my nose.

Damon snorts, rolling his eyes. “He always did have a way of being annoyingly right about shit.”

“Wonder if he’s watching us now,” I say, resting my chin on his shoulder. “Probably pissed that I’ve got his big brother wrapped around my finger.”

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