Page 98 of Glass Rose
Sofia slaps my arm, laughing. I grab her wrist and pull her closer, nearly upsetting the tray. She squeals as I roll her beneath me, pinning her hands above her head with one of mine, and her warm laughter fades as our eyes lock, replaced by something darker, more urgent.
“Thank you,” I murmur against her throat. “For the pizza. For being here. For everything.”
Her body softens under mine. “Where else would I be?”
“Right here.” I trail kisses along her collarbone, savoring her soft moans. “My beautiful girlfriend.”
She wiggles beneath me, testing my grip. “Tell me more sweet nothings.”
I kiss her deeply, tasting the lingering heat of chilies on her tongue.
The past six months have taught me things about Sofia I never could have guessed from our frantic escape. Like how she talks in her sleep, muttering equations and virus names like other people count sheep. How she can’t start the day without caffeine—even if it’s just chicory coffee brewed from foraged roots. How her body responds to my touch, and all the places that make her gasp, sigh, or beg.
And fuck, I’ve learned things about myself too. Like how I can actually sleep through the night with her curled against me. How I don’t feel the constant urge to patrol the perimeter when she’s working safely in her lab. How being feared isn’t actually the same as being respected, and maybe the latter is worth more.
My hand trails up her ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of her breast. She makes that sound in the back of her throat, half gasp and half moan, that drives me insane. I press her harder into the mattress, wanting to feel every inch of her against me.
“We don’t have time.” Her legs wrap around my waist. “Ethan’s waiting.”
“And?” I tug at her shirt, exposing the curve of her breast. “He owes me for taking point on the last three supply runs.”
“You’re insatiable.”
“Only for you.”
Her eyes soften at that, and she reaches up to trace the scar along my jawline.
“I love you,” I whisper.
Her fingers freeze. “What did you just say?”
“You heard me.” Some words lose their power when youthrow them around too much. Instead, I brush my thumb across her lower lip, watching her pupils dilate.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.” I hold her gaze, refusing to look away even when she searches my face for any sign of bullshit. “Been sure for a while.”
“Why now?”
I glance at the window, at the slice of blue sky visible through the glass. “Because we made it six months. Because you made me fucking pizza for breakfast. Because—” I release her wrists, shifting back, frustrated at my inability to articulate something so simple yet so massive. “Because I’m tired of letting fear dictate what I can and can’t have.”
“Say it again.”
“I love you.”
She throws her arms around my neck, hauling me back down to kiss me, deep and needy like she’s trying to swallow the words whole.
A sharp knock on the door breaks us apart.
“Hate to interrupt,” Ethan’s voice calls through the wood, “Docks in ten.”
I sigh. “Duty calls.”
“Always does.” She nudges my chest with a sigh, rolling off the mattress from under me. “We’re finishing this conversation later.”
“That a promise or a threat?”
“Both.” She throws a clean shirt at my face. “And eat your pizza, I want you to come back in one piece.”
