Page 140 of Kiss Me Like I Didn't Kill You
Across the room, Mr. Vass lifts his glass, satisfaction clear in his expression. He looks proud, pleased for his son.
My father, though, only smiles. It’s brittle and restrained. His jaw tightens just enough for me to see it.
I stand there, frozen.
Arlo takes a step back, his eyes never leaving mine.
I manage a small, forced smile in return, and see his jaw tighten.
None of this feels real.
Happiness and unease pull at me in equal measure.
Part of me is afraid that if I let myself feel it, it will all disappear.
And another part knows, with certainty, that this is exactly how it was always meant to be.
Chapter 50
Arlo
She’s a vision. My fucking vision.
The love of my life, finally, officially mine. Not only in secret, but in name, in symbol, with my ring glinting on her hand for the whole world to see.
I had the ring made with the largest stone she could wear comfortably. Enough to draw eyes from across any room. Enough to make sure every bastard who so much as looks at her knows, she’s taken.
Her hair falls in soft waves tonight. She usually wears it straight, but now it frames her face like a halo, and I’m done for.
And that white dress… it’s something else. The way it catches the light, the way it hints at the woman I’ll one day see in a wedding gown… fuck.
I know what I’ve done. The damage I caused. The lines I crossed. But none of it changes the truth. I’ll spend the rest of my life earning her forgiveness, begging for it.
Because this… us, it’s inevitable.
As long as I draw breath, she’s mine.
Fuck it, even in death she’ll be mine. If she ever thinks of another man, I’ll hunt him down from hell.
Everyone’s caught in conversation now, my father trading polite remarks with one of her uncles, glasses clinking, the usual empty laughter.
I step closer to Ophelia, my hand resting lightly at the small of her back.
“Come,” I murmur.
She hesitates, but does not resist.
I guide her out of the drawing room and into the corridor. I’ve no real sense of where I’m going, and she knows it, so she takes the lead, moving ahead of me in silence.
She stops outside the library, pushes the door open, and we step inside. The air is thick with the scent of leather and old paper. I close the door behind us, quietly, shutting out the rest of the house.
When she turns to face me, I see that familiar spark, the one that’s always been hers. Her eyes are bright, alive.
Her hands clasp together before her, the movement drawing my gaze to the soft swell of her breasts, and my cock swells in my trousers. I force my eyes back to her face.
“Do you care to explain what’s going on?” she asks, one brow arching.
I can’t help the faint smile tugging at my mouth. “Ma lune,” I murmur, “there’s no other man for you on this planet. And there’s no other woman for me. This was bound to happen, whether your father agreed or not.”
