Bliss by Kaylee Ryan Page 0,4

is low, but her eyes soften just a little, as does her posture at my words. I take another step toward her. “I’m in love with you, Reese. Not because you’ve been my best friend since I was eight years old. Not because I don’t want anyone else to have you. Although that’s true. You’re mine. I love you because of the way my heart races at just hearing your name.” I take another step toward her. “I love your smile and your laugh. I love the way that no matter where you are in a room, I can feel you.” I take one final step that leaves me toe to toe with her. Placing my index finger under her chin, I tilt her head up so we’re eye to eye. “I love you for this.” Reaching out, I grab her hand and place it over my racing heart. “I love that you are in here. You live inside of me, Reese. I never want that to change. Ever. I want to spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you.”

“Coop,” she cries, as big fat tears run unchecked down her face.

“Don’t cry, baby. I’m right here.” I wrap my arms around her, pulling her to my chest. Sobs rack her body as she clings to me. I hate that she’s hurting and I’m the cause of that pain, but at the same time, I’m so fucking grateful she’s here in my arms, and I have the chance to love her like she deserves to be loved. “I love you, Reese,” I whisper, pressing my lips to the top of her head.

Her sobs turn to sniffles and eventually quiet, and she lifts her head from my chest to look at me. Green eyes filled with sadness, love, confusion, and worry stare back at me. I want to ease her fears, and the only way I can do that is to show her. Sliding one hand behind her neck, I bend, pressing my lips to hers. Just a feather-soft touch to gauge the moment.

“Coop,” she breathes, and suddenly there’s something else in those beautiful eyes of hers.

Desire.

My hands settle on her waist as I bring her body flush with mine. She moans, and I have to taste her. This time I take what I want. I push my tongue past her lips and explore her mouth. My hands roam up and down her back, tracing her spine. She whimpers, and all bets are off. I need her naked.

Now.

Pulling back, I move us to the bed. She stands still as she watches me rip off my suit jacket and toss it on the floor. I remove my shirt from my dress pants and fumble with the button, and then the zipper as I tug them over my hips, letting them pool around my ankles. I kick off my shoes, and then my pants, as I rip open my shirt. Buttons ping off the walls as they fly across the room, but I couldn’t care less. I get to the neck and realize I’m still wearing my tie. With deft fingers, I work the knots and slide it over my head, dragging my shirt off and tossing it to the floor as well.

I’m standing before her in nothing but my boxer briefs, which do nothing to hide the fact that my cock is hard and aching for her. “I love you.” My voice is strong and doesn’t waver. I watch her closely, and her breathing accelerates at my confession. “I need you out of this fucking dress,” I growl. It kills me to see her in the dress she bought to wear for him. “Turn around, baby.”

She does as I ask. Kissing the back of her neck, I start with the zipper. As wedding dresses go, this one is simple. White, silk, and landing just above her ankles. There is no flair, or princess qualities—something I always thought of when I thought of Reese in a wedding gown. Over the past couple of months, since I got the invitation, I’ve imagined it quite often, and every time I was the man waiting for her at the altar.

Me.

I need her out of this one. The dress she bought to wear for him. With trembling hands, I give the zipper a tug, and nothing happens. I try again and still nothing. With a heavy sigh, I rest my forehead against her shoulder.

“Coop,” she says, reaching her arms behind her and grabbing