I pull away and meet Lachlan’s eyes. His hand stalls on my back. He looks right into me, the real me. There’s need and fear and desire and longing staring back at me. Maybe he does love more than just my bravery. I think that’s what I see when I drift closer, when our breath mingles, when he frames my face in his hands. “My feckin’ catastrophe,” he says as his thumb coasts across my cheek. “You fucking destroyed me. And now I can’t imagine being anything but the man that I am with you.” “Lachlan Kane,” I whisper. “You’d better kiss me and prove it.”
