Page 92 of Too Far

Tonight, she loves me.

Tomorrow, I’ll destroy us to save her.

Chapter 41

Josephine

It’sstillearlywhenI roll over, sated and sleepy, still tired but safe.

Safe.

With Decker—in his arms, with his love—I’m safe.

I crack one eye open to find his focus already fixed on me. He’s wearing the softest, most tender expression.

“Josephine.”

I press a kiss to his lips to silence him.

“One minute,” I murmur. Snuggling into his chest, I revel in the warmth of his arms.

Last night went from devastating and horrifying to so unimaginably beautiful I can’t believe it was real. For the first time in my life, I feel complete. Fulfilled. So in love I can hardly stand it.

“Hey, Decker?”

He exhales, a wary sigh.

God, I love riling up this man. I want to spend a lifetime making him sigh like that—teasing him and pushing his buttons, forcing him to not take himself so seriously. Encouraging him to let others take care of him the way he takes care of us.

A lifetime together. A lifetime of love.

“Do you remember what I said on the phone last night?”

In my hold, he goes rigid. His physical response triggers alarm bells in my mind, but I have to get this out. I have to make sure he knows it wasn’t just a trauma response—that it’s real, and true. So I take a deep breath to garner my courage, then speak my truth.

“Those words? They weren’t said out of fear or panic. I didn’t just say them because we were in danger. I said them because they’re true. I love you, Decker. I love you so much.”

A tremor rolls through him—from overwhelm or happiness, I hope. Without a word, he pulls me closer, wraps both arms around me, and inhales deeply.

I melt in his arms, soaking in every reciprocated emotion as he silently pours into our embrace.

It’s okay if he’s not ready to say it again. By his actions and care, he shows me. Ours is the forever kind of love that will blossom and shine over time.

“Minute’s up,” he murmurs, clearing his throat and jettisoning me out of the moment.

His mouth moves from my neck to my lips, then to my forehead, where he places the gentlest of kisses.

“I need to get downstairs and take care of some things,” he explains. “Kylian’s probably already got you out of classes for today, so take as long as you need before you come downstairs. I want my sheets to smell like you for days, Siren. I want to remember for as long as I live every detail of what it was like to have you in my bed last night.”

I bite down on my bottom lip, prepared to hit him with a sassy remark about how I’ll gladly refresh the sheets with him tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next week, once the cameras are gone for good.

But he’s sitting up and climbing out of bed before I can even open my mouth.

Heart aching with so much love for him, I watch him walk away. This perfect specimen of a man—a man who’s finally mine—strides into the bathroom with purpose and power.

When he turns on the shower, I consider joining him.

But that would defeat the purpose of his request. So I stretch my arms overhead, yawn, and roll to the center of the bed to drift back to sleep.