Chapter 25 I Think I Love You
I THINK I LOVE YOU
AMIRA
Imight regret this.
But everything in my gut says that Henson is telling the truth.
What I saw at the party was real—but so is this. So is he.
And sometimes, your gut knows things your head hasn’t caught up to yet, and mine is not screaming run. It’s whispering try.
Maybe this is what it means to take a chance. To allow yourself to be seen, and risk the fall.
“You can’t discover new oceans unless you have the courage to lose sight of the shore.”
I don’t know who said that. Some quote I read on a calendar once or saw etched into a notebook at a coffee shop that stuck.
I’ve spent so long keeping my feet planted on dry land, and now Henson is here, standing in the middle of the storm, holding out his hand and asking me to jump into the unknown with him.
So I do.
I take a breath, rest my forehead against his chest, and let myself lean in. “I believe you.”
“You do?” A note of hope in his voice.
I nod. “I do.”
His arms tighten around me and the storm quiets.
The door clicks softly behind us as he walks me backward and further into the cottage.
Henson kisses me again. “Happy New Year, Mira,” he whispers against my lips.
I kiss him back, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as he backs me slowly toward the couch.
“You still mad at me?”
“Undecided,” I breathe out as he trails kisses along my jaw.
“Then I guess I’ve got some convincing to do.”
My back meets the couch. He slides his hands down the curve of my hips. “Turn around for me, Temptress.”
The rasp in his voice shoots a shiver down my spine. I obey, heart thudding as his fingers find the zipper of my gown and slowly draw it down.
The dress loosens, cool air kissing my skin, and then his lips replace it, pressing softly at the base of my neck.
Every inch of me tingles as Henson moves lower, his hands gripping my hips, thumbs brushing bare skin.
He drops to his knees and a gasp escapes my lips when his fingers slide under the fabric and grab hold of my thong. With one quick snap, the lace gives way, and he slips the fabric free.
I hear him inhale.
“Jesus, Mira,” he murmurs like a prayer. “You smell like everything I’ve ever wanted.”
My cheeks flush, heat crawling down my body.
He spreads my ass cheeks gently as I brace my hands on the couch, body trembling. He takes his time, kissing my thighs, running his mouth over every inch of skin, worshipping me.
“You’re perfect. You take every part of me so sweetly. Let me take care of you tonight.”
I nod, eyes fluttering closed.
“Say it,” he urges. “Say you want me.”
“I want you, Henson,” I whisper, barely able to breathe. “I want you so much it hurts.”
He groans, putting his mouth on my puckered hole, and my hands clutch the cushions. “Oh, fuck.” I moan as he devours my ass, every nerve in my body lighting up like a blazing fire.
I’ve never felt this exposed. Never felt so undone and complete all at once.
When Henson finally stops, I can’t help the desperate sound that escapes me.
“Stay just like this.” His voice is deep and strained as he stands. I hear his clothes dropping to the floor.
Henson leans in close again, his chest brushing my back, hands settling on my waist.
My breath catches when he spits down onto my pussy, using his cock to spread the saliva over my entrance. His hand skims up my body and into my hair, fisting it just hard enough to make my eyes water. Then, his tip presses into me, slowly, and I whimper, wanting more, arching my back.
“Look at you.” Henson drags his hand slowly down the curve of my spine. “Bent over like you were made for this.” I let out a shaky breath, bracing myself harder against the couch. “Is my temptress desperate for me?”
I nod, but before I can speak, his palm comes down hard against my ass. I jolt forward with a groan, the sharp sting stealing the breath from my lungs.
“I asked you a question,” Henson snarls, voice thick with need.
“Yes,” I groan, barely able to get the word out.
He lets out a low chuckle. “That’s my baby girl.”
The moment he pushes forward, my entire body tenses, pleasure surging up my spine.
He moves slowly at first, deliberately, as if wanting me to feel every second of it, every inch of his cock burying inside me. Like he wants to make sure I know exactly who I belong to.
“Just like that, baby,” he growls, fingers tightening. “You’re taking me so deep.”
Each time he moves, I unravel. My body bends to him, molded by every thrust.
Henson mutters praise and filth in equal measure, and I can hear how much he needs me.
His breath turns ragged, his grip more desperate.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper, barely coherent. “Please… don’t stop.”
Every stroke pushes me closer and closer to the edge, until my orgasm rips through me like a lightning bolt.
I cry out his name, my body trembling in his arms.
With a rumble torn from his throat, Henson lets go, too.
His body jerks against mine, every muscle tensing, his hold on me fierce and desperate as he loses himself completely. His mouth finds my shoulder, muffling the low, broken sound he makes as he follows me over the edge.
For a long moment, we stay like that.
Eventually, Henson eases out of me with a soft exhale and pulls me into his arms. He lifts me off trembling legs like I weigh nothing, then sits back on the couch with me in his lap.
My forehead rests against his.
There’s only the sound of the fire crackling nearby, our breathing slowly returning to normal, and the feel of his lips pressing one soft kiss against my temple.
Then, so quietly I almost miss it, he says, “I think I love you, Mira.”
I lift my head and search his eyes, half-expecting to find hesitation there, but I don’t.
The words slip from my lips before I can stop them. “I think I love you too, Hen.”
The next morning, I wake tangled in sheets and warmth, limbs sore in the best kind of way, Henson’s arm wrapped around me like he’s never letting go.
I just lie there, watching the sun dance across the ceiling, listening to his breathing.
“Are you awake,” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep, “or just pretending, so you don’t have to get up?”
I smile. “The second one.”
He presses a kiss to the back of my shoulder, then rests his chin there. “Smart. I vote we never get up.”
I turn to face him. “Tempting, but I’m pretty sure your mom will hunt us down if we don’t show up for brunch.”
“Then I’ll say I kidnapped you.” His eyes are barely open, lips twitching. “New family tradition.”
I chuckle, resting my hand on his chest, feeling the slow thud of his heartbeat under my palm. “That might raise a few questions.”
“You think I care? Now that I’ve got you, I never want to let you go.”
I hold his gaze. “What happens when we get back to Seattle?”
“We keep going,” he says simply. “We figure it out. Together.”
I nod, something tender blooming behind my ribs.
“You still think you love me?” I tease.
He shifts, rolling on top of me, bracing himself with a hand beside my head. “No.”
My heart sinks.
“I know I love you.”
I let out a relieved breath and Henson kisses me, slow and unhurried, as if we’ve got all the time in the world.
We don’t talk about the what-ifs. We just hold on to what’s real.
And for once, that’s more than enough.