11 Scenes (Eleven, #2)

by Octavia Jensen

“It means whatever we want it to mean, Briella. I’ve waited a decade for you. If you think I’m letting you go because your kinks aren’t my kinks and mine aren’t yours, you’re delirious. Tell me you understand.”

“I see something that’s mine,” he continued. “Mine to break, mine to fix, mine to love. Mine to bruise and kiss and praise and degrade and own.”

I can do this for her, I can be this for her. Thou shall not kill, thou shall not gouge someone’s eyes out for looking at her, thou shall not … fuck it. I’ll do what the moment demands.

Just him, propped up on a couple of pillows with a book in his hand, a bare chest, and my favorite sweatpants. “No scenes today, Bri. I just want you.” He set that book down and held out his arms, and I climbed into them without complaint.

It was the closest I’d ever gotten to saying the words, and the way his hand stilled and his breathing hitched told me he understood. “Say it, Briella.”

“I love you. I love you, Harrison, and you don’t have to say it back yet because I know in the scheme of things we haven’t been together that long and have hardly been on dates like other couples. But I know what I feel, and because of what we share, I know it’s real and raw and everything I should be scared to feel, but I do. I love you.”