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His hand gently cupped her jaw again, thumb stroking her skin with a touch so tender it broke her breath.

“Marry me again. Let me do it right this time.”

He leaned in—close enough for her to feel his breath on her lips, warm and shaky. His mouth hovered over hers, just barely not kissing her.

“I’ll be a real husband. I’ll love you the way you should’ve been loved. I already do.”

Krystal blinked up at him, speechless. “Do you even realize what you’re saying?”

“I do,” he murmured, eyes locked on hers. “When I married you two years ago, I never planned to divorce you—not even once. But I couldn’t drag you into my mess until I’d cut ties with Esther completely. I thought I was protecting you. I didn’t realize I was only hurting you.”

Her brows pulled together, the words sinking in. “So now what?” she asked quietly. “You feel guilty about me?”

Lorenzo’s arm around her waist tightened, his fingers brushing slowly over the silk of her nightdress, tender, loving. He leaned in, his lips grazing her cheek, his breath hot against her skin, so close to her ear it made her shiver.

“It’s not guilt,” he said quietly. “I love you. No one knows the difference between love and guilt better than I do.”

He pulled back just enough to look at her, to make her see every inch of the truth in his eyes.

“I’ll prove it,” he said. “I’ll chase you if I have to. I’ll marry you again. Just give me the chance.”

Krystal’s lips curled slightly, as if trying to hold back a smile. Her eyes softened just a little.

Seeing it, he panicked—thinking she didn’t believe him.

Without thinking, he gripped the back of her head gently but firmly, tilting it up, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes searched hers with desperation.

“I’m serious,” he said, voice deep and urgent. “I’ve never been against this marriage. I saw everything you did for me—every damn thing.”

He leaned in again, his forehead resting against hers.

“But Krystal,” he murmured, “I don’t need you cooking for me three times a day. I don’t need you running back and forth just to please me. I wantyou. As my wife. That’s it. Just be in front of me, that’s enough. You don’t have to do anything unless you want to. I love you for who you are—not for the things you do for me.”

His voice turned husky, thick with emotion.

“Every time I see you, my mind just blanks. I lose control of what I say, what I do. I can’t think straight when it comes to you—and I don’t want to.”

He was so close now. His chest brushed lightly against hers, the heat of his body seeping into her skin. His arms caged her in. The intensity in his eyes burned through her. His hand on her waist pressed a little tighter, his fingers stroking the silk of her nightdress in slow, teasing circles. It tickled against her skin, making her breath hitch, her body buzz with tension.

Krystal swallowed hard, her pulse thudding wildly. She could barely breathe. “Lorenzo—”

“I’ve loved you for a long time,” he murmured. “Even though you seem like a different person ever since you divorced me.” His voice dropped even lower, soft and pleading. “I still love you.”

His eyes searched hers, vulnerable and raw. “Do you love me?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

Krystal’s gaze flicked between his eyes, his lips, the sharp lines of longing etched into his face.

He leaned in to kiss her, but she turned her head slightly, her breath catching in her throat. She placed a trembling hand on his chest and gently pushed him back.

“I… I need time to think about it,” she whispered, her voice barely holding together.

She turned away, but before she could take a full step, Lorenzo grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back into him in one swift motion. His arms wrapped around her.

His head dipped lower, his eyes locked on hers with a heated stare that made her knees weaken. “We’ve already wasted two years,” he murmured, his breath brushing against her lips. “I’m not losing another goddamn second.”

And then he kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle.