“I love you, sweetheart,” he whispered.
I shoved my face in his neck and burst into tears again. These lasted longer.
When they faded, silently, he turned me and curled into my body, holding me close, his face in the back of my hair.
And when the tightness in his arm around me relaxed, I whispered, “You’re my dream man.”
“I know.”
I blinked at my shadowed pillow. “Pardon?”
“Mara, baby, never believed this shit either but now I know you were made for me. So, seein’ as that’s true, it goes the other way too.”
Oh my God.
“I was…I was…made for you?”
“I’m a cop for a reason, honey.”
“So you were made to save me,” I guessed, not sure I liked that.
“No, I was made to protect you and you were made in a way that it would always be worth the effort.”
Okay, that was good. I was definitely sure I liked that.
Too much.
“Oh shit,” I whispered, lips trembling, “I think I’m going to cry again.”
His body shook but his arm got tight as his face burrowed deeper into my hair and I listened to him chuckle.
Which kinda pissed me off.
“Mitch! You don’t laugh during a heart to heart.”
“You do during one that involves Marabelle Jolene Hanover.”
I found myself glaring at my dark pillow. Then I realized I was exhausted from an orgasm, two crying jags and a heart to heart with Detective Mitch Lawson.
So I muttered, “Whatever,” which got me another chuckle.
And…whatever.
I snuggled backwards into Mitch and his arm got tighter. His breath went steady and it got looser.
But I didn’t fall asleep. I stared at the obscure folds of my pillow and played his words in my mind.
Then I played them again.
And repeat.
And each time, my soul sighed.
Then I went to sleep.
* * * * *
That was three days ago.