Page 23 of Love in Full Bloom

"Why tell me now?" she finally asks.

"Because I don't want any more secrets between us. Because after our conversation tonight about trust and vulnerability, it felt wrong to keep this from you." I release her hands to cup her face gently. "And because I want you to know that I chose you, Jasmine. Even before we met, something about you called to me."

Her eyes search mine. "You're not disappointed? Now that you know the real me, with all my insecurities and doubts?"

"Disappointed?" I shake my head, incredulous. "Jasmine, you're extraordinary. Your ability to see beauty in overlooked places, your emotional courage in expressing what most people miss, your resilience in pursuing your vision despite doubts—these aren't flaws. They're what make you remarkable."

I take a deep breath, knowing it's time to lay everything bare.

"When I look at my life before you, I see structure without soul. Technical excellence without heart. I was creating landscapes that looked perfect but felt empty." My thumb traces the curve of her cheek. "You've shown me what was missing. Not just in my work, but in my life."

A tear escapes, trailing down her cheek. I catch it with my thumb.

"You paint wildflowers because you see their worth when others dismiss them as weeds. I see you, Jasmine. All of you. Your passion, your doubts, your whimsy, your strength. And I'm not just captivated—I'm falling in love with every part."

Her breath catches. "Ben..."

"You don't have to say anything. I just needed you to know?—"

She cuts me off by pressing her lips to mine, her hands sliding up to tangle in my hair. This kiss is different from our previous ones—deeper, more urgent, filled with newfound certainty. I pull her closer, one hand at the small of her back, the other cradling her head. She tastes like wine and possibility, and I lose myself in the sensation of her body against mine.

When we finally part, her eyes are dark with desire, the emerald flecks almost glowing in the dim light.

"Stay," she whispers against my lips. "Stay tonight."

The simple request sends heat coursing through me. "Are you sure?"

In answer, she stands and takes my hand, leading me toward her bedroom. The space is as vibrant as the rest of her apartment, with flowing curtains in jewel tones, a patchwork quilt in shades of green and blue covering the bed, small paintings of wildflowers adorning the walls. It's unmistakably Jasmine.

She turns to face me, suddenly shy despite her boldness moments ago. I step forward, closing the distance between us, and kiss her again, slowly this time, savoring the soft sigh thatescapes her lips. My hands find the zipper of her dress, pausing there.

"Is this okay?" I murmur against her neck.

"Yes," she breathes, turning slightly to give me better access.

I lower the zipper with deliberate slowness, pressing kisses to each inch of skin revealed. The dress pools at her feet, leaving her in simple, lacy underwear that makes my mouth go dry. I take a moment just to look at her—the generous curves, the softness of her skin in the lamplight, the constellation of freckles across her shoulders.

"You're beautiful," I tell her, meaning it more than I've ever meant anything.

Her hands reach for the buttons of my shirt, fingers trembling slightly. "I want to see you too."

I let her undress me, watching her eyes darken as she reveals my chest, my shoulders, my arms. When her fingers trail down my stomach to my belt, I catch her wrist, bringing her hand to my lips.

"No rush," I say softly. "We have all night."

I lead her to the bed, laying her down gently against the pillows. She looks up at me with such trust, such openness, that my heart constricts with emotion. I stretch out beside her, propped on one elbow, and trace the curve of her collarbone with my fingertips.

"I want to memorize every inch of you," I murmur, following my fingers with my lips.

She arches into my touch, her breath quickening as I explore the softness of her skin, the fullness of her breasts, the dip of herwaist. I take my time, learning what makes her sigh, what makes her gasp, what makes her whisper my name like a prayer.

When I finally remove her bra, the sight of her nearly undoes me. I lower my head to taste her, drawing a nipple into my mouth, circling it with my tongue until she moans and threads her fingers through my hair, holding me closer.

"Ben," she breathes, her hips rising to meet mine instinctively.

I trail kisses down her stomach, savoring the softness of her skin, the slight curve of her belly. When I reach the edge of her panties, I look up, seeking permission. She nods, lifting her hips to help as I slide them down her legs.

"You too," she insists, tugging at my remaining clothes.

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