TWISTED FATE (Twisted Path Book 1)

Chapter 34

Shane

The first thing I register is warmth. Soft, silky skin pressed against mine, the scent of cherries and something uniquely her wrapping around me like a second skin. My arm is heavy over her waist, the curve of her hip fitting perfectly into my palm. Beneath my fingertips, I feel her—smooth, delicate, mine.

For a long moment, I just breathe, enjoying the serenity of this new day. A day that marks the beginning of a life I never thought was possible. A life with a woman I love more than life itself, and who is with me because she loves me. Me, Shane. Not Shane Montgomery, heir to the famed Montgomery Empire. My relationship with Becca isn't a transaction. It isn't about familial obligations or legacy. It's just love. Genuine, passionate, earth-shattering love.

It doesn't feel real, but somehow it is. She's here. Naked. Tucked against my body exactly where she belongs. I feel like the luckiest guy on the planet. Images from last night replay in flashes—her lips, her gasps, the way she gave herself to me without hesitation, without fear. The way she looked at me as I entered her, like I was the only thing in her universe. I wonder if this is how Perseus felt when he defeated the sea monster and finally made Andromeda his.

My stomach sours at the thought. Unlike Perseus, who used Medusa's head to turn Andromeda's sea monster into stone, my pretty girl's monster is still out there. Charles Kline. Somehow, someway, I have to find a way out of this for all of us. If there's one thing I learned last night, it's that there is no going back. There is no other woman in this world for me. Only Becca. And there is no way in hell anyone is going to make me marry anyone other than her.

My chest tightens, an ache settling deep in my ribs as reminders of what we're facing try to break through the bubble of bliss surrounding us. I should move. I should wake her up and get started with our day. The real world is waiting, not to mention school, which starts in just a little over two hours. But with her tucked safely in my arms, I don't want to leave this bed. I don't want to move even an inch away from her, because the second I do, reality will come crashing back in like a tsunami set on wiping away the beautiful possibilities we cemented for ourselves last night. Something I refuse to allow.

Fuck reality.

Fuck anyone who even tries to tear us apart.

She stirs, shifting in her sleep, her body stretching against mine, her thigh brushing my hip, her bare chest pressing into my side. A small, contented sigh leaves her lips, her fingers curling against my skin, and I nearly groan out loud.

Jesus Christ.

My cock throbs, my body responding to hers, even though last night should've drained every ounce of energy I had. But it's her. There will never be enough when it comes to her.

She shifts again, her breath warm against my chest as she nuzzles closer, her fingers splaying over my ribs. And that's when it happens—she presses a sleepy kiss against my skin.

I go still.

A slow, lingering drag of her lips.

Not purposeful. Not seductive. Just instinctive. A half-asleep, "mine" kind of kiss that wrecks me more than any deliberate touch ever could.

I don't even realize I'm holding my breath until she makes a small noise in the back of her throat and tucks herself even closer, her nose brushing my collarbone, her hand sliding up my chest.

I swallow hard, staring at the ceiling like it holds the answers to how the hell I'm supposed to get up out of this bed and go on with my day like it's just a normal Thursday. When every instinct in me is screaming to stay. To take her again. To keep her here. To lose myself in her until the world outside this bed doesn't exist—until nothing, not reality, not our enemies, not even fate itself, can tear us apart.