Chapter Sixty-Eight
Rylee
Beneath the sunshine.
“L uc?”
He’s standing there looking like a beautiful mess. His curls stick out in every direction like he’s been running his fingers through them all night. Those hazel eyes I love so much look tired with dark circles, as if he hasn’t slept. His shirt is half buttoned, and the tie hangs loose around his neck.
He steps inside without a word, and I shut the door behind him. His gaze locks onto mine, and he’s looking at me as if I’m the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
“Baby, are you okay?” My heart is pounding now, a thousand scenarios running through my mind. Did something happen? Is Luna okay?
He leans in, close enough for his cologne and his musky scent to fill the space between us. “Say it again.” His breath brushes against my skin.
“Say what again?” I blink up at him.
“What you said on the phone earlier.” His eyes search mine like they hold all the answers. “Please, baby. I need to hear it again.”
I freeze, my stomach flipping. Oh my God! He flew all this way because I told him I love him. That wasn’t the plan. I wanted to wait until I got back and tell him in person. But the words spilled out before I could catch them.
I reach up, cupping his face in my hands. His skin is warm beneath my fingers, his stubble rough against my palm. “I love you,” I whisper, my own tears threatening to spill.
His eyes flood with relief, like I just gave him the world.
His eyes close as a broken sound escapes him, somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Merde,” he exhales, stumbling backward as if my words have knocked the wind out of him. He bends over, clutching his knees like he’s trying to breathe.
“Baby?” My heart aches as I watch him breakdown in front of me. He doesn’t look up, his shoulders shake. Oh God, he’s crying.
He sits at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. I follow, slowly crawling onto his lap, and gently tilt his face so his teary eyes meet mine. His arms wrap around my waist.
“I love you so fucking much,” he chokes out. “I didn’t know how much I needed to hear it until you said it.” He swallows hard. “I needed to see you. Needed you to know how much this means to me.”
My forehead presses against his, and tears slipping my own cheeks.
“I promise to love you the way you deserve, the way you need, and if I screw up because I’m an idiot, I swear I’ll fix it.” Tears spill freely from his eyes.
There are a lot of things I love about him, his laughs, the way he looks at me like I’m his world. His curls, which I’m a little jealous of how perfect they are. But this? How in touch he is with his emotions. How he’s not afraid to be vulnerable with me is what I love the most. Sometimes, society teaches men to be strong, to hide their tears and bury their vulnerability. To me, they’re not weaknesses; they make him real, and it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.
I press a kiss to the corner of his eye, catching a tear. “I love you,” I whisper then kiss the other side. “I love you.”
I’ve never loved anyone like this. And yeah, I’m scared—terrified, actually. But loving him isn’t a choice anymore. It’s like breathing. I need it. I deserve it. And I’m done holding back. I’m ready to feel it, all of it.
His lips crush against mine, trembling, and I kiss him back just as hard. My fingers tangle in his hair. His hands tighten around my waist, pulling me closer. We’re both a mess. His tears mix with mine as they streak down our cheeks.
“I love you,” we whisper between kisses, the words spilling out as if we’re pouring our very souls into each other. Every kiss feels like he’s feeding his love to me. My starved heart can’t get enough. It’s been waiting, aching for this, for him, and now it’s drowning in his love, and I never want it to stop.
But gravity pulls us apart, the need for air forces space between us. His forehead rests against mine, our lips still barely touching, as if even this small distance is too much.
We stay like that for a moment—just breathing and existing in this space that feels like ours alone.
Then, slowly, I slide off his lap, lacing my fingers with his and pulling him to his feet.
“Come on, let’s get you showered.”
He raises his eyebrows at me. “Are you saying I stink?”
“Maybe a little.” I smirk, pinching my fingers together.
He smiles as I guide him to the bathroom.
Once we’re in, I motion for him to sit on the closed toilet lid. I reach for his tie and pull it off his head. He wraps his arms around my waist and rests his head against my stomach. A soft sigh escapes him.
I tilt his head up slightly. His eyes soften, stirring baby butterflies in my stomach. “You okay?”
He nods.
My fingers stroke through his hair, and I press a lingering kiss on his forehead. He closes his eyes, breathing me in, and my heart clenches at how safe he lets himself be with me.
I help him out of his shirt then crouch down to remove his shoes. He stands, letting me push his pants and boxers down then stepping out of them. His beautiful length springs free before me. Even when he’s not hard, it’s long and beautiful.
Then it’s his turn. His hands move slower, taking his time as he tugs at my pajama shorts, his fingers trailing over my hips before he finally pulls them off.
We step into the shower together, the warm water cascading over us.
I lather shampoo into his hair, working through his curls, and his shoulders relax beneath my fingers. He sighs again, his head leaning forward as his hands grip my waist.
“I’m jealous of your curls,” I tease, scratching lightly at his scalp.
His head tilts up, eyes half-lidded as he looks at me. “Why?”
“They’re too perfect,” I say with a small pout.
His lips curve into the faintest smirk. “I love your curls, too. You should wear them more often.”
I hesitate. “I don’t know. They take forever to maintain, and a silk press lasts weeks.”
His jaw clenches like he wants to argue, but instead, he takes the shampoo from me. “Turn around.”
I raise a brow, but I obey, facing away as he gathers my hair in his hands. The moment his fingers sink into my scalp, a quiet moan slips from my lips.
God. He’s good at this.
He takes his time, working the shampoo through my curls, massaging and detangling before we rinse off. His body is pressed so close behind me that I can feel his heartbeat against my back.
When we step out, I grab a towel, running it through his damp hair first before handing him another.
“Did you bring any clothes?”
He smirks, shaking his head.
“You’re crazy,” I mumble.
“Crazy for you.”
I roll my eyes, grabbing a detangling brush. “Sit.”
He obeys, sinking onto the toilet seat again as I comb through his hair, adding leave-in conditioner before braiding his curls into two neat cornrows. I love taking care of him like this.
His arms wrap around my waist. Slowly, he parts the towel draped around me, his fingers gliding over my bare skin.
Then he leans in, pressing soft kisses into my stomach, like he can’t go a second longer without touching me.
His kisses trail lower, stopping just above my center, and the smallest moan slips past my lips before I can stop it. He looks up at me, a slow, wicked smirk spreading across his face.
I roll my eyes before he even speaks.
“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll be feasting on this sweet pussy later.”
This man and his mouth. Sometimes, it says the sweetest things. Other times, the filthiest.
Once I’m done, he stands and lifts me onto the bathroom sink. My thighs part to make room for him, my hands instinctively resting on his bare shoulders.
I can’t believe this man is all mine.
“My turn.” He reaches for the brush.
I let him.
His touch is gentle as he separates my curls, braiding them into two thick braids, stopping to press soft kisses to my lips. My heart is so full that I feel like it might burst.
“So pretty.” He pulls back to admire his work before scooping me off the sink again, and I wrap my long legs around his waist. My arms loop around his neck as he carries me to the bedroom.
He lays me down softly, our towels long forgotten. I shift toward the center, and he follows, resting his head on my stomach. His fingers trace lazy circles over my skin, his breath warm against my hip.
“I can’t believe you flew all the way here just so I could tell you I love you in person.”
He exhales, pressing a soft kiss to my skin. “I’d fly to the ends of the earth just to hear you say it again.”
An unfamiliar pressure builds behind my eyes. I’m not an emotional person, but this man makes me feel so much. Too much.
“Why are you doing this?” I whisper.
“Doing what?”
“Making me emotional. Making me love you too much.” I swallow. “Because I think I already do, and if…”
“Hey.” He moves up, hovering over me. “There’s no ‘if,’ baby. Love me as much as you can, and I promise, I’ll love you back ten times more.” His thumb brushes gently across my cheek.
“Okay…” A shaky breath leaves me as the tears finally spill over, slipping down my cheeks before I can stop them. “I love you.”
“How much?” His breath is warm against my lips as he whispers.
I sniffle then let out a small, teary laugh. “More than vanilla candles.” More than I thought was possible to love someone. I love Luna, and I love Mia. I still love my mom. The way I love this man is completely different. Everything just feels brighter. I thought I was fine before him. I thought I was happy before him. But I think it’s okay to say I’m happier with him. It feels amazing to be loved by him and even more to love him.
He grins, tilting his head. “That much, huh?”
I nod, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him close until our foreheads touch. “So much that I believe you’re my soulmate, too.”
His breath hitches. “I need another word.”
“Huh?”
“I love you isn’t big enough for what I feel for you, Mon Soleil.” His forehead stays pressed against mine.
My chest constricts at his words, a feeling so overwhelming I can’t put it into words either. “You call me your sunshine, but you’re the sunshine of my life.” I cup his face in my hands. “Your love shines so bright that all my shadows fall behind me. But the thing is, I don’t have to hide them, not from you because you love me no matter what.” My thumbs brush gently over his cheekbones. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted beneath the sunshine.”
He doesn’t say anything for a while, his hand gently cradling mine where they rest against his face. His eyes stay locked on me, full of emotions too big for words. My chest aches, but in the best way possible, like my heart is stretching to make room for all the love I never thought I deserved, but this man is giving to me fully and unconditionally.