Through the bond, she felt his confusion give way to shock. Then a hope so fierce and desperate it made her breath catch.
“Muriel?” His voice was rough with sleep.
“Good morning.”
He didn't move. Didn't tighten his arm or pull her closer. Just stayed frozen, like he was afraid she'd disappear.
“You're here,” he said finally.
“I'm here.”
“In my bed.”
She rolled over to face him, and her breath caught at what she saw in his eyes. Hope and fear and love, swirling among the cerulean blue and the green and amber sparks. “Hi.”
“Hi.” His hand came up to cup her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone like he still couldn't quite believe she was real. “I thought?—”
“I know what you thought. And I need to tell you something.” She covered his hand with hers. “I choose you,” she said, softly but clearly. “Not because I have to, but because I want to. Because you're kind and patient and you turn bookstores into tropical gardens. Because you've never once made me feel like I was broken or too much or something that needed fixing.”
Brandon's eyes began to glow.
“I was so angry when I discovered you didn’t tell me about the bond,” she continued. “But last night, knowing you were hurt, feeling you work for hours to free yourself so you could protectme—I realized something.”
“What?”
“It wasn’t the bond that made me feel the way I did. It wasyou.”
“Muriel—” His voice broke.
She pressed her finger to his lips. “I know you're sorry, and that you were trying to protect me. And I know the bond is real and permanent and something we'll have to navigate together. It isn’t always going to be easy.” She took a breath. “But I also know it's a gift. Rare and precious andours. And I don't want to break it. I want to keep it. Keep you.”
“Are you sure?” The question came out hoarse. “Because we can take it slow. If you need more time, if you're not certain?—”
She kissed him.
It was meant to be a soft, reassuring kiss, but the moment their lips met everything changed. The bond flared between them like wildfire, and Brandon made a sound low in his throat that made a new kind of heat erupt in her core—the kind she’d only experienced in dreams.
Until now.
His hand slid into her hair, tilting her head for better access, and he deepened the kiss. Muriel opened forhim, and his tongue swept inside, hot and demanding and oh soright.
She pressed closer to him. Their bodies aligned so perfectly. Her soft swells and dips fit to his hard planes, as if they were two halves of a whole. She knew, without a doubt, they would fit together in other ways, too.
“Muriel,” he groaned against her mouth. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
“I'm sure.”
His fingers flexed on her hips, but he remained frustratingly in control of his baser instincts—unlike her, who was ready and willing to climb him like a tree. She knew he wanted her. She could feel the hard proof nestled against the vee of her thighs.
She pulled back only enough to meet his eyes. “Stop being noble for five minutes and kiss me like you mean it.”
The smile that broke across his face was devastating. “Just remember, you asked for it.”
This time when he kissed her, there was nothing gentle about it. His mouth was demanding, his hands moving over her with clear intent, and Muriel felt the bond surge between them. It was pure want meeting want, the need doubling and redoubling until she couldn't breathe for the intensity of it.
She tugged at his jeans—the ones he was still wearing from last night—and he helped her shove them down and off. Then his hands were on her, sliding underthe borrowed t-shirt. She gasped as his talented fingers found bare skin.
“You're wearing my shirt,” he said, voice rough.