Page 70 of Make Out With A Merman

Not in a rush, not loud. Just… moving.

And gods, my heart stutters because I know what last night was.

Not just comfort. Not just heat. Not even just love.

It was a choice.

And I chose him. All of him.

And Ifelthim choose me.

I pull on his shirt because it’s there, because it smells like him, because it’s oversized and comfortable and makes me feel like maybe the world isn’t ending and pad barefoot out the door.

He’s standing just outside, on the edge of the overlook behind his cabin.

The sun lights him up like something mythic. Bare shoulders. Back tense. Jaw set.

He doesn’t hear me come up behind him.

“You always brooding this early,” I tease, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind, “or is this a special occasion?”

He tenses for half a second.

Then relaxes into me.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Nightmares?” I ask.

“No,” he says, voice rough. “Dreams.”

That makes me pause. “Good or bad?”

“Both.”

I lean into him. “Well, if I’m not in them, they’re inaccurate.”

That earns me the faintest smirk.

Then he turns, cups my cheek, and justlooksat me.

Like he’s memorizing the way my freckles land or something equally poetic and unnecessary and totally him when no one’s watching.

“I love you,” he says.

I grin. “I mean, duh.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

His thumb brushes my cheekbone, and it’s so gentle I forget the lake exists for a minute.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he says.

“You won’t,” I promise. “We’ve got each other. And Hazel’s amulet will hold. We’ve got a plan. Sort of. And if it doesn’t work well, I’m very good at improvising with glitter and nerve.”

But he doesn’t smile.

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