Page 52 of Slow Kind of Love

Link wasn’t sure how long they’d lain there, chests heaving as they each tried to catch their breath, but eventually, he rolled over and gently extricated himself. He kissed the top of her head and padded to the kitchen, where he grabbed a clean cloth and ran it under warm water.

Pepper glanced up at him from one of the several dog beds scattered throughout the place, and he couldn’t help but grin. God, he felt like King freaking Kong. He made his way back to Elise and knelt down, gently parting her legs, aware that her eyes never left him as he cleaned her inner thighs, then the juncture between.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, liking that her skin was pink and raw from their lovemaking. When he was done, he sank back onto his heels and thought about what to say—how to string all those words inside him together in a way that made sense. In the end, he decided it was best to keep it simple.

“Elise, I want to talk.” His voice was rough, and he cleared a frog or two from his throat as she got to her elbows and gazed at him.

“I don’t want to talk,” she said softly. “Not tonight. I want to go up to your bedroom and climb under the covers, and I want to fall asleep in your arms.” She slid off the sofa and held out her hand. “And I want to do that right now.”

“In the morning, then,” he murmured, getting to his feet.

“In the morning.”

Link followed Elise up the stairs and did as he’d been asked. He slid in behind her and held her close, listening quietly as her breaths became longer and smoother and her chest rose and fell softly. She was asleep in minutes, and Link? Well, he watched her in the dark as long as he could, until he couldn’t keep his eyes open, and eventually, he joined her in dreamland.

When he woke, the sun was shining and Pepper stood a few feet from the bed, wagging her tail and making soft grunting noises. He swung his gaze over to Elise, smiling at the sight of her tangled in his covers, her skin still pink from their lovemaking. He pressed a light kiss to her cheek and got out of bed. Then pulled the blinds closed before tugging on a pair of trackpants and heading downstairs with the dog. He let him out and looked after his food and water bowls before getting busy with breakfast.

A good thirty minutes passed before the fruit and homemade waffles were ready for his love. He set things on a tray, grabbed the special box from the mantel in his living room. He placed it between a glass of orange juice and her strawberries-and-cream-heavy waffles. He then headed back upstairs.

Elise’s head rose from the pillows, her hair a mess of tangles as she pushed it aside, and she sat up when he set down the tray on the small table beside his bed. Eyes still heavy with sleep, she smiled up at him, a vision he’d carry to his grave if ever there was one.

“Good morning, luv.” He bent down and kissed her, a slow, lazy sort of thing that had his blood pounding and body responding within seconds. He stepped back before things got out of hand again and took a moment to compose himself. “I figured you’d be hungry.”

She smiled and turned to the tray, reaching for a strawberry. His world was perfect for the next five seconds. But then her hand froze midair, and the smile that was burned into his memory faltered. Elise glanced back at him, the sun fleeing her eyes. It wasn’t exactly the reaction he’d thought he’d get, but he reached for the small velvet box, there beside her waffles and cleared his throat. He needed to get this right.

“I meant to do this last night.”

“No,” she whispered, but Link was so focused on getting this done right, his brain didn’t register her panic.

“I love you,” he said simply as he opened the box. “And I think you feel the same. I—"

“I told you not to open it.” She sounded anguished, like a wounded animal.

In every single scenario he’d run, this one hadn’t been on his radar.

“Elise,” he began again, wondering how he’d managed to muck things up when he’d barely begun.

“No,” she said, and again, stronger. “No.”

“What the hell?” he asked, frustrated as she slid from his bed. She scrambled for something to wear, frantically searching through the mess of blankets on his bed, then found an oversized sweatshirt draped across the chair on the other side. She pulled it over her head. It nearly fell to her knees, and should look ridiculous, but something about her tore at him, and if anything, she’d never looked as beautiful or frail. She looked as if she were about to break apart.

This was all wrong. Fear made him bold. “What the hell’s going on? I told you last night I wanted to talk.”

“I don’t want to.” She was literally shaking.

“Last night, you said we’d talk this morning.”

“I can’t…” She stumbled over her words. “I don’t want…”

Anger joined the fear, and his voice was harsher than he meant. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what you want right now. You’re going to listen to me.” Fuck. He took a moment and gentled his tone. “There’s nothing to be afraid of, luv. I want you in my life. I want that forever.” He looked at the velvet box and then back to Elise, whose gaze was focused on the box with laser-sharp intensity.

“No,” she said slowly, shaking her head before wrenching her gaze from the box to look him in the eye.

No? What the hell?

“I don’t want any of this.”

“But what does that mean? Is it marriage? Are you afraid to jump in again? We can wait. I can wait as long as you need.”

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