Page 102 of Silence and Surrender

She met my passion with her own, her body melding into mine like she couldn’t get close enough. When I slid into her again, it felt like everything was right and perfect in the world.

This time was faster, more urgent. Her nails raked down my back as I drove us both toward release. Each thrust carried declarations of love, each touch a promise of forever.

Later, we lay tangled in sweat-dampened sheets as morning light filled the room. Her head rested on my chest while my hand splayed protective over our child.

“We should get up,” she murmured, though she made no move to leave my arms. “The others will wonder where we are.”

“Let them wonder.” I kissed her temple, breathing in her familiar scent. “I’m not ready to share you yet.”

She laughed softly. “Always so possessive.”

“Only of what matters most.”

She raised her head to kiss me, slow and sweet. When she pulled back, her eyes held mischief. “Shower?”

“Together?”

“Mmm.” She stretched against me deliberately. “Unless you’re too tired...”

I rolled us again, pinning her beneath me as she giggled. “I’ll show you tired.”

Her laughter turned to gasps as I proved just how much energy I still had. How much I needed her. How completely she owned every part of me.

Chapter Forty

Isabella

I found him on the terrace where we’d spent so many evenings during my recovery. The Tuscan night wrapped around us like silk, the mole cricket’s song mixing with the fountain’s gentle splash. Colton stood at the stone railing, his usual pressed suits replaced by casual clothes that still somehow looked elegant on him. Always the lawyer, even in repose.

“You’re thinking too much,” I said softly, moving to stand beside him.

He smiled slightly. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

“Your side of the bed was cold.” I leaned against the railing, watching the moonlight play over the vines below. “What’s keeping you up so late?”

“I’ve been thinking about documentation,” he said carefully. “About how we try to make everything fit into neat categories. Contracts. Evidence. Proof.”

I smiled, used to his lawyer’s mind by now. “And what fascinating legal conclusion has kept you from sleep?”

“That sometimes the things that matter most can’t be documented.” He turned to face me fully. “After Catherine, I made everything in my life precise. Controlled. I turned relationships into carefully orchestrated encounters that could never hurt me.”

Something in his tone made me look at him more closely. He seemed...not nervous exactly—Colton Moreau was never nervous—but there was an intensity to him I hadn’t seen before.

“Then you walked into my office,” he continued quietly, “and dismantled every careful wall I’d built. Made me want things I’d convinced myself I didn’t need. Didn’t deserve.”

His hand found mine on the railing, warm and steady. My heart started beating faster as understanding began to dawn.

“I’m not getting down on one knee,” he said softly. “I’m not making grand speeches. That’s not us.”

“No,” I whispered. “It’s not.”

“But I am asking you to marry me. Before London. Before whatever comes next.” His eyes held mine, intense and certain. “Not because of the baby, or the danger, or any logical reason. But because I love you. Because for the first time in years, I want something real instead of something safe.”

Tears pricked my eyes but I smiled. “That sounds suspiciously like a speech.”

“Occupational hazard.” His thumb brushed my cheek. “Lawyers talk too much.”

“Yes.”

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