Maybe since I first explained.
“I want to live with you,” he says strongly against my lips.
I dizzy. “And you want to be my boyfriend,” I say out loud, my lips lifting into an overwhelmed smile. “My real boyfriend.”
“You want to have a boyfriend.” He says what is true. I’m no longer closed off from the idea of a relationship. My heart is open for him to hold.
And to protect.
Breathless, I whisper, “Only if that boyfriend is you.”
His hand encases my cheek. “I love you, Jane.”
My lungs swell with deeper emotions.
He cradles my gaze. “You don’t have to say it back. I know it may take time for you because of your feelings about love—”
“I’m falling so terribly in love with you,” I say, my heart speaking for me. It feels good and right and perfect. “I think I’ve been falling for you for some time now.”
He inhales, his forehead pressing to mine. I thread my fingers through his soft hair.
We kiss again. This one sensual and tender, and as our lips pull back in a breath, we turn our heads, sensing something outside the window.
Snow flutters softly down. I watch the wind carry the white flakes in whirling arcs.
“It’s early,” I say to him. “One of the earliest snowfalls, if I remember correctly.”
“First snow of November,” Thatcher breathes, but his eyes have already returned to me. Hands still holding me. Protecting me.
He may not be my bodyguard anymore, but he doesn’t have to be for me to feel unequivocally safe in his arms.
And the road ahead may be filled with more potholes and storms, but I’m not driving down a one-way street. We’re together.
Whatever we have to face, that’s all that matters to me.
We’re together in love.