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I stopped walking, turning to face him. The moonlight caught the planes of his face, casting half in silver light, half in shadow.
“You’re welcome,” I breathed. “But you earned it.”
I leaned back, the bark scratching my shirt and pulling strands of hair. His hand, still wrapped in the towel, lifted, and he braced his arm over my head on the tree.
“Mmm,” he murmured, reaching to trace my lip with his thumb. “Have I told you today how much I adore you?”
“Several times.”
In several different ways: tangled in bed, bringing me a coffee in the office, and right before we gathered with the others.
“Well, just to make sure you know….” He bent forward, catching my mouth. His lips claimed mine with a hunger that had been simmering beneath the surface all evening. I melted against him, my hands finding balance on his chest, feeling his heartbeat quicken beneath my touch. The wild taste of him, sweetened with the sip of champagne, was intoxication on my tongue as he deepened the kiss, pressing me harder against the rough bark of the oak.
A soft moan escaped me as his good hand slid to my waist, fingers digging into my hip with possessive intent. The ceremonial oath had left us both charged with an energy that demanded release. Each breath between us grew more ragged, more desperate.
“Anyone could walk by,” I whispered against his mouth, even as my fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. The long, golden strands loosened from the binder, falling forward like a shield from the world.
“Let them,” he growled, trailing kisses along my jawline to the sensitive spot below my ear. “They already know I’m yours.”
His lips captured mine with an intensity that stole my breath. Gone was the gentle reverence from earlier—this was raw need, months of restraint finally giving way. I clutched at his face, pulling him closer until his body pressed mine against the rough bark.
Jaxon groaned against my mouth. “I love you, Isabella. I love you so fucking much it terrifies me.”
The vulnerability in his voice made my chest tighten. This man, who had killed without hesitation, who had walked through fire for me, was laid bare in the moonlight. I reached cupped his cheek in my hands, feeling the rough stubble of his beard beneath my palms.
The words hung between us like a sacred vow, more binding than any oath sworn on the patio. My heart hammered against my ribs as his forehead pressed against mine, our breath ragged in the cool night air.
“I love you too,” I whispered back, my voice barely audible above the distant sounds of celebration. “More than I ever thought possible.”
His sliced hand cupped my face with reverent gentleness, thumb stroking across my cheekbone. “You called. I’m here—I’m yours.”
“And you’ll stay mine,” I promised, and then wound my arms around his neck as he picked me up. “Now, as your boss, your first official order is to steal me away. Do you think you can get us back to our room without the others seeing?”
Jaxon’s chest vibrated with a rough, low laugh. “Yes, Donna Isabella, that I can do.”
Epilogue – Poppy
ApproximatelythreeyearsafterTwisted Crown. Poppy age twenty-two.
“Come in,” the deep bass called, the volume muffled by the thick wood door.
The hinges protested as I pushed it open, creaking with an ominous greeting. The dark wood shelves on the far wall subdued any attempt at cheerfulness, but that didn’t stop the priest from flashing me a jolly grin, which I returned.
“Poppy! Thank you for coming,” he greeted me, pushing his glasses further up his broad nose.
Letting the door fall closed, I crossed the room quickly, not glancing at the garish art hanging on the wall to my left. The cross was gruesome to begin with, but the artist had a way of making me feel as though I drove the nails in the Savior. I much preferred the picture of the resurrection framed near the door. Something about that crucifixion scene always tied a knot in my stomach. The sorrow etched into the followers’ faces was a visceral reminder of my own human condition, the reason for the execution in the first place.
“Of course,” I responded and took a seat opposite him.
Father Hughes adjusted his collar, just as he did before delivering the sermon. My heart rate spiked a notch, going from a rapid patter to a race.
What did I do?
“A situation has come to my attention. One of a delicate nature,” he began.
I hummed, my mind scrambling to think what it was that could possibly have happened. I’d been to mass, avoided the bar scene, and hadn’t been on a date in…shoot. Had it really been eighteen months?
I needed to get out more.
