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The humor flees his features. “Are you serious?” He approaches to settle in beside me, peering down at me with beseeching eyes.
“Sorry, I broke character.” I grin. “I’m supposed to point out that you’re following me, then you ask if that’s a problem.”
His brows pull tight, then finally, he gives a succinct nod. “Is it a problem that I plan on following you?”
I want to laugh. Goddamn it. The vibration consumes my chest. This man, this murderer, is following instructions to do a cheesy re-run of the first night we met. And I goddamn love it.
I love him.
A breath shudders from my lips, and I blink back the burn in my eyes. “I guess that depends on what you want to achieve.”
My vision blurs as I wait for his response. I remember what he said the first time. I remember the exact words—I want everything.
“Hey…” His rough palm glides over my cheek, his gentle touch inspiring the first tear to fall.
I haven’t cried in ten years. Not in sorrow. Not in pain. And definitely not in the overwhelming happiness currently sinking through every inch of my being.
“I want you to move in with me,” he whispers. “I want you to be mine. I want you to be as in love with me as I am with you.”
He takes my mouth in a forceful kiss, curling my toes, stroking my tongue with his before pulling back to rest his forehead against mine. “I still want everything, Sarah.”
I nod, the movement jerky and uncontrolled. “Then, no, Luke. I guess it’s no problem at all.”