Every word he said was like electricity, coursing from my ears straight to the very tip of my heart.

I let out a long sigh of relief, finally understanding the root of his mood swing at lunch.

Gregory noticed my sigh, a mix of relief and confusion dancing in his eyes. "Why the heavy sigh?" "Really? You have to ask?"

I pinched his waist, a playful grunt escaping me. "You were there, sipping on your soup, and suddenly, the atmosphere around you just shifted. Scared me half to death."

Gregory paused for a moment, his voice dropping to a whisper, "Why didn't you ask me about it then?"

"I was scared," I admitted, fidgeting with my hands. Under the weight of his love, I felt myself piecing back together, no longer worried about appearances or awkwardness, but simply looking up at him. "I guess I've gone so long without truly having anything that I get scared of losing it before it's even mine."

No sooner had the words left my mouth than his hand found its way to my head, ruffling my hair affectionately. He leaned down, his eyes, bright and undeniable, locked onto mine with a mix of exasperation and fondness. "Take it slow, Jane. I'm only thirty. Even if I don't live to be a hundred, I've still got a good four or five decades in me."

to make up for

time to make you believe that you've

heart and soul, and every part of me, all belong

and moving, somehow

closer, his breath enveloping me, igniting a warmth that

my racing heart was sure to give

his grip on my waist. "Who said

to retreat. Then, in a swift motion, he scooped me

down at me. "Jane, let me show you

protest, his lips claimed mine

him away. "What are

"Zoe's already left."

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