I move to go to the passenger side, and he shakes his head and corners the trunk.
I draw my brows. “You’re letting me drive?”
We lock eyes over the top of the car. “I trust you.”
Three words.
Three words I never, ever thought I’d hear from Tobias King. More potent than any other words he could ever speak to me. I feel the weight of them as I gather myself in the driver’s seat, and Tobias climbs in, biting his lip to hide his smile as “Father Figure” sounds out when I turn on the car. I study him closely, his expression…content, his eyes filled with affection when he turns to me.
“I do trust you, and respect you more than any other and I heard you clearly, Cecelia. I always have. That mark was supposed to be a promise that I always would.”
My future has no more room for tears. I’ve shed enough for both our lifetimes. But I can’t help the one that sneaks away, with a foreign tinge to it that reeks of elation. And it terrifies me. Tobias reaches over, gripping my face. “There’s something else you should know.”
He rubs his thumb along my cheek. “I did watch. That night you told me you hoped I was watching. I was. I have been the whole time,” he whispers softly, “I couldn’t look away.”
A sob bursts from my lips as he draws us together, our foreheads touching. “I’ll make it up to you, every day I denied you, denied myself. I’ll make up for it for the rest of our punishment. Je t’aime, Cecelia. I love you so fucking much. Mon trésor.” His kiss isn’t gentle. It’s claiming, damning us both to the other for eternity. A punishment I’ll gladly live out and see through to beyond our lifetimes and the next. When he pulls back, I glance in the back seat.
“What’s in the grocery bag?”
“Breakfast. Ingredients for French toast.”
I lift a brow. “Debatable. Cinnamon?”
He dips his chin. “Two bottles.”
I can’t help my smile. I buckle my seat belt and put the car in gear and glance over to him. “Fair warning, my place isn’t exactly a palace.”
Not a palace but a waking dream.
A vision I had the night Dominic told me he wanted nothing for a future. A vivid dream of a long driveway lined with Bradford pear trees that bloom white in the spring. A driveway that leads to a house on top of a hill floating in the middle of the mountains. A small house with lots of built-in bookshelves, cozy reading nooks draped with soft plush blankets and throw pillows. And behind it, a garden filled to the brim with every imaginable scent and color. I’d searched for nearly a month before I found something resembling what I dreamt of. The day I closed on it, I painted the front door blood red. And then I stocked the fridge with a rare wine. My last touch was adding my French Bulldog, Beau.
After a long day at my café, feet aching, I sit in my garden with music drifting from every room of my house to where Beau and I sit on the patio overlooking new blooms. It might not be Roman’s palace, but it’s a real home—lived in. Comfortable. Untainted by secrets and lies. Aged, but untouched by the unforgiving world surrounding it. A sanctuary.
Tobias leans over and runs a finger along my lips and down my throat, his eyes igniting with promise. “Does it have a stove where I can make you breakfast?”
“Yes.”
He trails his touch down along my breastbone as my pulse begins to rocket.
Heavily lashed eyes sear into me as he whispers over my lips. “A bed where I can make you come, and often?”
“Yes.”
He presses his lips to mine and pulls back. “Then what else do we need?”
“Nothing.”
His smile cracks along with the sky, and it starts to pour, sheets of rain beat down on the windshield when I pull up to the main road and click my signal.
I turn to Tobias as he eyes the water pounding on the hood and looks back to me. We share an ironic smile.
We most definitely aren’t riding off into the sunset.
He shrugs. “First of many. Merde, c’est nous.” Fuck it, it’s us.
“It’s not a storm, Tobias,” I say, looking up at the sky. “It’s a blessing.”
“I don’t want to live in a country with a brittle spirit, I want to