Page 87 of Safe Place

"Micah," I whisper, my breath unraveling.

He glances up at me, eyes dark but impossibly soft. "Shh. Just let me take care of you."

And he does. Slowly, thoroughly, until I'm trembling beneath him and gripping the sheets and whispering his name like my life depends on it. The warmth keeps building, winding tighter and tighter, and just when I think I can't take any more of it, something gives—everything in me pulls taut and then breaks apart at once, and I hear myself cry out, my fingers tightening in his hair. He stays with me through all of it, unhurried, reverent, holding me steady while I come back down.

When he finally crawls back up, he presses a kiss to my forehead, then settles beside me, pulling me against his chest. His heartbeat is steady under my cheek.

"Happy birthday, Sophie," he whispers, brushing his lips against my ear. "That was just the beginning."

The wind bites at my cheeks as we walk along the shoreline. The ocean stretches endlessly beside us. It’s colder than either of us expected, but I don’t mind. Especially not when I'm wrapped in Micah's scarf, still holding the warmth of him. I’m pretty sure he tucked it around me just so he wouldn’t have to see me shivering.

Still, my nose is practically frozen.

“You’re turning into Rudolph,” he teases, grinning down at me. “It’s cute. In a frostbite kind of way.”

I try to glare at him, but the wind is too brutal, and I’m too busy trying not to smile. “Remind me why you thought a beach trip in November was a good idea?”

“Because,” he says, stopping in front of me, “It’s romantic. Even if we’re both freezing our asses off.”

I roll my eyes, but he takes my hand and tucks it into his coat pocket along with his own. His palm is warm, and he brushes his thumb lightly over my knuckles. My heart flips a little too hard.

We eventually find a cafe inside the resort and sit at a table after ordering coffee.

“How’s your day so far?” he asks after a few quiet sips.

I glance at him, at the soft golden light catching in his lashes, at the way he always looks a little too good to be real.

“It’s the best day I’ve ever had,” I say honestly. “Like ever.”

He leans back in his chair, arms folded casually across his chest, mouth twitching like he’s trying not to smile too much.

“I wanted to take you to Bora Bora,” he says after a beat. “And let you write on the beach all day.”

My eyes snap to his. “You remember that?”

“Of course I remember,” he says, like it was never a question.

I just stare at him, stunned—and still not used to someone paying attention to the things I say when I’m not trying to be heard.

“But with school and everything else, we don’t exactly have time to fly across the world,” he continues. “So I found the nicest beach resort I could within driving distance. It’s not Bora Bora, but I figured it could still be memorable.”

Then his voice softens. “And I will take you there. One day. I promise.”

All I can think—like I have, countless times since meeting him—is how did I get so lucky?

There are two boxes waiting on the bed back in our room.

One is long and flat, wrapped in matte black paper with a gold satin ribbon tied cleanly across the top. The second—slightly smaller—sits just beside it. No card or note. Just a quiet kind of anticipation hanging in the air.

“What’s all this?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at him.

Micah’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me like he’s been waiting for this moment all day. “Birthday outfit,” he says. “For dinner.”

My brow lifts. “You picked out an outfit for me?”

He shrugs, but there’s a pink flush creeping up the side of his neck. “I’m not sure if you’ll like it, but I saw it and thought of you.”

He says it like it’s nothing. But his voice is softer than usual.