Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Clara
Moonlight was the only illumination in the room when I woke up a few hours later. Beckett’s arm was slung over my waist; the rise and fall of his chest against my back was a steady rhythm.
So much had changed in such a short span of time, but none of it felt rushed. In fact, it had probably taken us years to get to this point.
I stretched delicately, and slowly, not wanting to wake him. There was a delicious ache in my muscles.
The clock on the bedside table showed it was just after three in the morning. I eased out of bed to use the bathroom, trying to be quiet. My small efforts were in vain.
Beckett was awake when I got back into bed. “Everything okay?” His voice was groggy, but he reached for me and pulled me against him.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I whispered as I snuggled into his arms. “Go back to sleep.”
“Are you sleeping okay?”
“Yes. Better than I ever have,” I reassured him. The man loved to take care of me; he was even getting better at allowing me to do the same. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“'S’okay,” he mumbled. “I sleep better with you next to me.”
My heart swelled at the small confession. I whispered, “Me, too.”
“You should sleep here every night.”
What? I couldn’t tell if he was still awake or had fallen back to sleep. I was surprised at how easily and quickly I wanted to say yes.
“You want me to … move in?”
“Mhm.” His voice was soft, but it didn’t sound like he was fully asleep. “The cabin is bigger than your apartment but if you’d rather live there, I will.”
I pushed against his chest. “Open your eyes right now if you’re seriously asking me to move in with you, Beckett Ashland.”
Faster than I could follow, Beckett grabbed me, rolled us over, and pinned me to the bed with one hand on my waist and the other holding my hands above my head.
Without thinking about it, I opened my legs wider for him to settle against me. There was just enough light in the room that I caught his smirk.
He traced small circles on my hip with his thumb. My shirt had ridden up when he flipped us, and his thumb was on my bare skin. I couldn’t focus on anything else except those damn, tiny circles.
“Clara, why in hell would I want to spend any more time away from you than necessary? Of course I want you to move in. I’d ask you to marry me if I didn’t think you’d smack me.”
I … My brain went quiet. “Oh.”
“So, will you?”
“Yes,” I answered, grinning, without knowing exactly which question he asked. It didn’t matter. Beckett was mine, and I was his.