Chapter Forty
Abigail-Ann
“The very essence of romance is uncertainty.”
~ Oscar Wilde
The moment we stepped into The Shops this was everything I touched or looked at today. Hell, it was everything I wanted but would never ask for.
He couldn’t possibly get any dreamier.
I looked up at him, and he brushed his thumb across my lips.
“The way your eyes widened when you saw these, and the faint smile that followed, told me you wanted them,” he said. “I can’t wait to see how amazing you’ll look in them.”
I swallowed hard, overwhelmed. “I don’t do half as much for you. I– I just don’t.”
His gaze softened, and he took my hands in his, his grip firm. “You don’t have to earn your place in my life, mi reina . 111 ” His voice was absolute. “You already have it.”
My tears were threatening to spill over. “Thank you for everything.”
Mikkel’s thumb moved gently across my cheek, his expression soft, unreadable.
And then, just as I was about to ask what was on his mind, he spoke, his voice quieter now. More certain.
“I know this might be random, but… would you move in with me?” He exhaled, his gaze never leaving mine. “Not now. But eventually.”
The question stopped me in my tracks, my mind scrambling to process his words. Move in? With him?
I hesitated—not from doubt, but because this was monumental. Living together meant more than sharing space; it meant intertwining lives.
“Would you really want to live with me?”
His gaze held steady, dark and resolute. “Nothing compares to waking up beside you every morning and coming home to you every night.”
“I would,” I admitted softly, then bit my lip. “But if we were to move in, we’d need to split responsibilities.”
His head tilted slightly, brow furrowing in confusion. “Split responsibilities?”
“What are your thoughts on fifty-fifty?” I asked, my nerves buzzing beneath my skin.
For a moment, he looked at me—assessing, considering. Then his lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk.
“The only fifty-fifty I’m interested in is giving you my last name one day very soon…” He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. “And hearing you scream my first when you’re coming all over my cock, fingers, or tongue.”
Heat flashed through me, stealing the air from my lungs. My face burned, and I looked away, struggling to compose myself.
“I’m serious , Mikkel,” I murmured, though I couldn’t stop the small, betraying smile that tugged at my lips.
“So am I.” His tone was softer now but no less intent, no less real.
I swallowed against the sudden sting of tears, overwhelmed by the depth of his love and devotion. He wasn’t just saying what I wanted to hear—he meant it. Every word.
“Let’s talk about it later,” I finally said, my voice wavering but steady enough to let him know I wasn’t brushing him off.
His expression didn’t change. If anything, it softened even more. “Of course, mi amor. 112 Whenever you’ re ready.”
Because Mikkel wasn’t just patient.
He knew how to love me in a way I was still learning to accept.
I sat at my vanity, finally taking a break after three hours of unpacking which had somehow turned into a full closet reorganization. When I grew too tired, Mikkel had stepped in, folding and hanging the rest of my clothes without hesitation.
“Baby,” he called from the closet. “Do you want the jeans on hangers too?”
I laughed, still in disbelief. “No, just fold them.”
“Okay.”
His voice was so casual, as if him stepping in to do this for me was the most natural thing in the world. I exhaled, turning my attention back to the lip products—lipsticks, glosses, lip liners—unpacking them one by one. My fingers brushed over the sleek tubes, pausing.
I hated swatching shades on my skin.
I swiped a soft mauve across my hand, regretting it immediately as it clung like a stubborn stain.
Before I could spiral, warm hands grounded me. I met Mikkel’s steady gaze in the mirror, my racing thoughts slowing.
“What’s wrong?”
I bit my lip, hesitating before sighing. “I’m gonna need to get testers at Ulta tomorrow.”
His brow lifted slightly, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “You don’t need to do that.”
Confused, I turned to him. “You know I hate swatching on my skin.”
His arms slid around my waist, fingers grazing my hips as he leaned in. “Use something else.”
“Like what? ”
The slow smile that curved his lips sent a flutter through my chest. He took the tube from my fingers, his touch lingering before he tapped his cheek with two fingers.
“Me.”
I blinked at him, expecting a teasing smirk, but he was completely serious.
“Right here, mi reina. 113 ”
I let out a startled laugh. “Are you serious?”
He nodded, unfazed. “Since you don’t like swatching on your skin, use my face.”
“But the kiss marks, Mikkel.”
His fingers tucked a curl behind my ear, his voice steady. “You’re just testing the pigment, correcto ? 114 ”
“Yes, but—”
“Exactly. So use my face.”
I stared at him, completely thrown. “People would see you walking around with ki—”
“Let them.”
My breath hitched. He said it so simply like it was the most obvious thing in the world. But the weight of those words slammed into me. He wanted them to see.
To be loved was to be loved out loud.
My heart squeezed as I stared up at him. “You’re serious.”
His expression softened, his voice a deep, steady rumble as he cupped my chin. “I don’t care who sees it. The whole universe knows I’m yours, Abigail.”
Something in my chest cracked wide open.
“If you say so,” I murmured, trying to hold back the emotion swelling in my throat.
I reached for a deep red lipstick, twisting it up before pressing my lips to his cheek. The creamy pigment transferred easily, staining his warm skin. His breath ghosted against my neck, making me linger a second longer than necessary.
When I pulled back, I half expected him to tease me. But instead, his fingers brushed over the mark, his tone dropping into a husky rasp.
“You missed a spot.”
Before I could process that, his hand cupped my face, pulling me in until our lips met in a kiss that was slow and deliberate.
When he finally pulled away, his grin was downright mischievous. “Let’s see how the other shades look.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you.”
His nose brushed against mine, his breath warm as he murmured, “We have all the time in the world. And I don’t look too bad, I love my lipstick-testing side.”
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t have a lipstick-testing side.”
He smirked, rubbing a finger over the kiss mark. “I do now, mi reina. ”
“Mikkel….” My voice wavered, the overwhelming tenderness creeping in before I could stop it.
He shrugged, as if he wasn’t completely wrecking me. “If it means letting you test all those colors, plus more, then I’m happy to have that side.”
I exhaled a soft, breathy laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”
His hands tightened around my waist, his lips grazing my temple as he whispered, “And completely yours.”