These Thorn Kisses (St. Mary’s Rebels 3)

I close my eyes then.

I close them, clench them.

And just breathe for a second.

I let myself breathe and absorb his words before I open my eyes and ask, “Why?”

“Because you’re my dream girl.”

I press my forehead against his. “You think that you’ll say all these things, the most wonderful things that a girl has ever heard and you’ll write me a letter, again the most wonderful letter that anyone has ever written for a girl, and I’ll forgive you?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “And I don’t want you to either.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that I don’t want you to forgive me,” he says, looking me in the eyes. “Until I earn it. Until I earn your forgiveness. Until I make you believe that I’m going to do everything that I can to make you happy. To make you smile, to make you laugh, to give you everything that you deserve. I know you said that you only want me. And Jesus Christ, I’m yours. I’m fucking yours, Bronwyn. Every inch of me. But I won’t stop until I give you every star in the sky and every flower on the ground. I’m going to lay it all down at your feet. I’m going to decorate you like you decorate yourself. I’m going to earn you, Bronwyn. And I don’t want you to forgive me until I’ve done all that.”

God, he’s an idiot, isn’t he?

He is.

And I’m in love with him.

Completely and irrevocably.

“You want to earn me,” I say, moving away from him slightly and trying to look all serious.

He rubs his thumbs over my cheeks. “Yes.”

I keep my eyes narrowed and bratty even. “Are you a hard worker?”

His own fill with tenderness at my question.

At the memory of me saying those words to him back when I was trying to seduce him. Back when I was trying to convince him that I’m a good girl and so he should let me suck his cock.

“Yes,” he says, his voice all serious-like even though his eyes are all soft. “I was a straight A student and the captain of my soccer team.” Then, “With a perfect strike record.”

Of course.

My hardworking baby.

“A fast learner?”

“Fuck yes. I once had to cover a friend’s shift at the restaurant where I worked. He was a bartender and by the end of the night, I was mixing up drinks while juggling three bottles.”

“You were not,” I say, all impressed.

He throws me a lopsided smile. “I was.”

“That is impossible.”

“Is it?”

I shake my head at him, a smile threatening to break out. “So basically, you’re the good guy of Bardstown, huh?”

“Yes I am.”

“Except when you distract me from my work.”

“Except then, yeah.”

Sighing, I let go of his wrists and bring my arms up, winding them around his neck. “Fine. You can.”

“I can what?”

“Call me your wallflower,” I say, burying my fingers in his long-ish hair, referring to the last sentence in his letter.

His own hands move then.

And in turn, come to bury themselves in my hair. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” I press my body to his. “I wasn’t ready to hear it before. I was too mad. But I’m thawing a little.”

“So does it mean that I’m doing a good job?” he rasps, his fingers flexing in my hair. “Of earning my wallflower’s forgiveness.”

“Yes.” I nod. “But if you ever, ever, hurt me or lie to me like that again, Conrad, I will –”

“No,” he speaks over me, his voice, his eyes, even his fingers all grave and serious. “Never. Not like that.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, baby. Pinky promise.”

I finally smile and something breaks loose on his face, his body. He loses his tightness, that edge that he was on ever since we’d arrived at his house and presses his body to mine in response.

“Tell me,” I whisper, my heart beating and beating in my chest.

I don’t have to explain myself to him or what I want because he understands.

Like he always does.

And tells me, “I love you.”

I have to part my lips then.

At his thick, raspy words.

At the sheer, raw love on his features as he continues, “I’m in love with you. I’ve probably been in love with you for a long time. I just…”

“You’re just an idiot,” I complete his thread for him.

A lopsided smile. “Yeah, I’m a fucking idiot for taking so long to realize it.”

“And to even think that I’d ever choose anyone else let alone your brother,” I tell him then, with all the love in my voice and my eyes. “Because I love you too. And I choose you. Now and forever.”

His nostrils flare at my words. His chest shifts with a breath. His stomach hollows.

It’s like he’s absorbing my words now.

My love for him.

“Forever,” he repeats like I did back at my house.

“Yeah, forever.”

And then we seal our promise to each other with a kiss.

A lovely, rosy, thorn kiss.