I sit cross-legged on the bed, twilight bleeding soft violet through the curtains. Calder is still in his work jeans—grease under the nail of his thumb, devotion under every callous.
“Close your eyes, Sara,” he says, voice low enough to vibrate in my ribs. I obey. Something cool touches my right ring finger...
When I open my eyes, there’s mischief in the curve of his mouth, but reverence in the way he holds my hand.
“Be mine again,” he laughs. The Claddagh is turned so the point faces me. Yours. Chosen.
“I never stopped,” I whisper back. Voice cracks. He smiles like he’s stolen every sunset and tucked them behind his teeth.
I tug him into me—strong hands, warm shoulders—and kiss him once, soft. The second kiss comes sharper, teeth just grazing his lower lip. He tastes of sea-salt crisps and inevitability.
← Rory’s House ~ Four Out of Five →
