Page 80 of Fixing to Be Mine

She doesn’t look away. She doesn’t smile this time either.

Instead, she sets her empty plate and fork inside the basket and leans a little closer.

“This is where I usually deflect,” she says.

“You don’t have to,” I tell her.

“I know, and that’s what’s terrifying.”

The air between us changes, tension wrapping tightly around us. I place my plate inside the picnic basket as well and refill our wine. The light is fading now, the sky turning shades of rose and indigo, and the first stars are beginning to appear. I reach out and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. My fingers brush the shell of it, and she doesn’t pull away, but her breath catches enough to make my own shallow.

“This is terrifying,” I say. “You’re the person I’ve been waiting to meet.”

She blinks, and I can see the way that hits her.

“I’m scared of how much I want this,” she admits.

I press my palm over hers. “Then let me be the one thing you don’t have to be scared of.”

Stormy doesn’t speak right away.

Her hand stays pressed against my chest, fingers resting over the beat of my heart, like she’s listening with more than her ears. She doesn’t look down. Her eyes stay locked on mine, like she’s waiting for one last sign.

I lift my hand slowly, giving her every chance to stop me, and gently cradle her jaw. My thumb traces the edge of her cheekbone, the warmth of her skin grounding me in the reality of this moment.

When she leans in, it’s not rushed or uncertain.

It’s her saying yes.

And when I kiss her, it isn’t careful. Everything I’ve been holding back is poured into it. Her lips part beneath mine, and my heart comes unstitched. She tastes like wine and sugar, but there’s more beneath that like I’m wrecking and rebuilding her world at the same time.

She exhales sharply, and I feel it against my mouth.

Stormy grips my shirt, pulling me closer, like maybe she needs something solid to hang on to, and I want to be that for her. I want to be the thing she can count on when everything else starts to blur.

Her kiss deepens, and I meet it with everything I’ve got. My hand slides into her hair, fingers threading through the soft strands at the nape of her neck. She tilts her head, letting me in further. She’s not kissing me like someone who’s leaving. She’s kissing me like a woman who’s finally found home. And I kiss her back like a man who’s been waiting his whole damn life to find her.

The world narrows down to the pressure of her mouth, the sound of her breath, and her body leaning into mine. The pond in front of us, the fading sun, the breeze in the trees—it disappears, leaving only us.

Eventually, I ease back, giving enough space to breathe. Her lips are parted, her eyes still closed, like she wants to stay suspended in this moment a little longer. I do too.

When her eyes finally open, she looks at me like I’m the man who sees her, and I do.

“It’s never felt like that with anyone else,” I say quietly, my voice rough around the edges.

A slow smile curves her mouth, small but completely unguarded.

“For me either,” she whispers. “Even if I don’t want to admit that.”

I rest my forehead against hers, letting the air settle between us. My hand is still in her hair. Hers is still fisted in my shirt, and we don’t rush. We just fall.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

STORMY

Colt and I lie on our backs and stare up at the stars above us. There are so many that it seems unreal, like someone punched holes in the sky to let sparkling magic leak through. The fire that he built crackles a few feet away. I tilt my body toward his. He hasn’t said a word since our confession, but he doesn’t have to. His silence isn’t uncertain. It’s confident, like he knows what passed between us was more than a kiss. It was a shift, a surrender, a confession neither of us can walk away from even if we wanted. This has been building since the moment we met, and tonight, it might finally spill over.

I keep staring at his mouth, still parted, tasting like wine and cobbler.

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