Page 142 of Entangled

And I cry because, despite all of those terrible things, this was wonderful. I feel filled up, then emptied out, then filled again. His care, and Bristlebrook, and his words and his touch, all of it is just...

“I love you,” I whisper against Beau’s neck, the words falling out of me. Inevitable. Too true and right in this moment for them to possibly be stopped. They’ve been coming since the moment I met him and he defied Dom and soothed my fear so he could tend my ankle.

My perfect, wonderful doctor.

Beau stops breathing, his hands halting on my back.

I’m not sure what I’m expecting—some kindly misdirection. A gentle explanation of why I couldn’t possibly feel this way. It feels like that happens so often, whenever my feelings are involved.

I don’t expect him to tilt my head back.

And I don’t expect it when he says, “I love you too, Eden.” His eyes gleam with emotion. “I love you so hard it breaks my heart.”

I release a hard, painful breath. My heart fills, overflows. He loves me?Beau loves me.

We stare at each other for a long, charged moment before I huff a damp laugh.

“You’re a really terrible doctor, you know,” I tell him.

Beau blinks, surprised, then snorts, a cheeky grin crashing over his face.

I’m laughing when I tease, “Really awful. That isnotstandard medical practice. Do they let you get away with that? They should take your license.”

He laughs too, his eyes sparkling wickedly. “I’ll have you know, darlin’, my patients always leave satisfied.”

I widen my eyes at him. “All of them? Jayk never mentioned...”

“Not all of them, brat.” He pinches my butt, and I squeak through my giggles. His forehead rests on mine as he sobers. “Only my favorite patient.”

My throat feels thick. I haven’t had this before. Not like this. I remember telling my husband I loved him. I even remember meaning it.

I don’t think I knew what it meant.

It never felt like this.

I touch his cheek lightly, enjoying the graze of his stubble against my fingertips. “You don’t think this is too soon?”

How soon is too soon to fall in love?

Beau gives me a tender half-smile, and I can feel the raised crease of it like the sweetest kiss. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to fall in love with you.”

My eyes sting again, and I blink hard. “Ohhh,” I growl in frustration. “Don’t. I?—”

“Don’t be nice to you?” He rolls his eyes, though he’s still smiling. “You need to stop fretting, darlin’. I’m not afraid of your tears.”

Fortunate for him, considering I just drowned his chest in them. Funny, how similar his words are to Jayk’s—I’m not scared of your fight.

I swallow hard, thinking, tracing through the drying, salty tears I’ve dampened him with. Whatever he says, this is enough. I’ve criedenough.

Beau loves me.

He’s here with me, and helovesme. I just want to float here, for now, where I’m safe.

The mess outside that door will come for me soon enough.

So we sip lazily at our wine, and he makes me blushingly recount what I liked about the scene—almost everything—and what I didn’t like—the way he held off my orgasm, an answer which makes him laugh far too hard for some reason, before he promises that next time, I will have as many orgasms as I can handle, with no edging involved. A promise that sounds good in theory but for some reason, when paired with that hyper-amused smile, makes me nervous.

We talk about—God—anal stretching. Or Beau talks, at least. I listen while staring politely at the bedsheets, trying to look like discussions about enemas, and potential tearing, and proper lubricants, andtraining kitsdoesn’t make me want to hide under them.

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