“I’m sorry. I was—”

“Danika.” He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers, electric perfection flashing through every nerve in his body. His stomach swooped like he was on a roller coaster, and a giddy smile spread across his face. Her hands wrapped tightly around his wrists, as if to stop him from letting her go. Like he’d ever let her go. He felt the curve of her answering smile against his mouth.

“That you love me,” he corrected softly. “Say you love me.”

“I love you,” she breathed, and he inhaled the words and exhaled bliss as she continued. “I love you a ridiculous amount, and I can’t promise I’ll never freak out or mess up—”

“Sweetheart, I don’t need promises like that. I just need to know you’ll try anyway.”

“I will, Zaf, I will—”

“And I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” She looked at him like he’d dropped his brain on the floor, then laughed. “Of course you are, because you’re lovely.”

“You asked me for baby steps,” he said, every regret tumbling out. “I knew you weren’t ready for everything I wanted, but I got carried away. I’m not surprised you panicked.”

“It’s okay,” she told him softly. “It’s okay. Now shut up, I’m declaring myself, and you’re making me lose my nerve.” Then she kissed him, just the slightest touch, just like he’d kissed her. But he felt it down to his bones.

“Oh,” he breathed. “Cool. Yeah. Declare yourself.” Quickly, before I die of happiness.

She grinned, but her expression sobered as she cupped his face. “I’ve spent a long time trying not to get hurt, Zaf, but until you, I never stopped to think about why. I’m a confident person. I really am. Which is probably why it’s taken me so long to realize that I’m also insecure. When it comes to my own value in this—in this context, and the things I’m capable of. Socially.” She cleared her throat. “Romantically.” Her voice was stiff, and he knew she was probably embarrassed just saying this.

So he held on to her, and hoped she’d understand what it meant. He was speaking her language, the silent one he’d always worried might be in his head, the one made up of touches and looks. It’s okay. It’s always okay, when it’s you and me.

She smiled a little, slow and trembling, like she heard him loud and clear. “Now that I’ve realized all this, I’m planning to . . . you know, work on it. Take a page out of your book, and know myself a little better. Because I deserve it, but also because of you, Zaf. I don’t ever want to hurt you to protect myself. I want to be brave.”

“You are,” he told her. “You are.”

“And you’re worth it.” She kissed him again, slower, deeper, and he let everything he felt for her overflow, because all of a sudden, he didn’t have the words to express it. So sipping at her lower lip became I missed you, and easing her mouth open meant I adore you, and the touch of his tongue against hers meant You’re mine.

Then he pulled back and said it, just said it. “I missed you. I adore you. You’re mine.” Wait. He hesitated. “But I don’t know what you want, what you’re really asking for. And I promised myself I’d always be clear on that. Dan—”

“I want you. In every way I can have you. And I trust you to have me, too,” she said softly.

He felt dizzy. “Even though I hit you with the love thing like it was a brick?”

“Yes, despite that.” She laughed, and he felt the puff of her amusement against his lips because he still hadn’t moved away. Couldn’t. Although, he was getting a crick in his neck, bending down for her like this, so he let go long enough to pick her up. Just like he had the first time: princess style. Since she was his princess and all.

“Zaf,” she spluttered. “We’ve talked about this.”

“You should really expect it at all times. Kiss me again.”

She didn’t hesitate.

When she’d orchestrated this scene, Dani had entertained modest hopes. In her wildest dreams, she’d imagined Zaf deigning to hear her out, then returning to his desk and letting her ply him with coffee and chocolate until his feelings toward her slowly thawed.

Instead, he was kissing her with unreserved joy into a breathless, horny heap, and all she’d done was make a verbal declaration. Dani made a mental note: Zafir likes verbal declarations.

She had decided, these last few days, to study everything Zaf liked and do her very best to give it to him.

After one last, lingering kiss, he pulled away slightly and asked, “What’s with the flowers?”

Dani’s heart was in danger of flying out of her chest, which made concentrating on explanations quite difficult, but she managed anyway. “White and red carnations—it means love. I was being romantic. You know, like in the books.”

He grinned wide. “The books?”

“I . . . may or may not have read a few romance novels in order to research how I might win you back.”

“You did what?” he choked out. Then his shock dissolved into laughter. “Ah, but of course you did. Danika fucking Brown.”

He made her name sound like a blessing.

Then, suddenly, he sobered, studying her face with a frown.

“What?” she asked, trying not to panic. If she’d gotten something wrong, he wouldn’t throw it back in her face—she knew that now. He never had, and that wouldn’t change just because she’d decided to call this connection romantic instead of convenient. So she willed her pounding heart to slow . . . and it did.

“I just—it’s not that I don’t appreciate the grand gesture,” he said, “because, trust me, Dan, I really fucking do.”

She exhaled a sigh of relief. “Well, thank goddess for that.”

“But I know you don’t enjoy things like this. And I hope you didn’t feel like you had to do something that wasn’t . . . that wasn’t you. Because I meant what I said the other day, even if I said it at the wrong time. I don’t want you to change, Danika. I just want you to be mine.”

Dani was really starting to see the benefits of this romance shit, because at those words, her conservative little heart kicked off its shoes and started to dance. “Well,” she said, fighting a grin, “that’s quite wonderful to hear. In fact, feel free to repeat it whenever.”

He brushed his nose over hers. “As many times as you want,” he said softly, and the promise washed over her like warm water.

“But no,” she went on, “the flowers haven’t triggered some sort of existential crisis in me, if that’s what you’re worried about. Actually, I’ve decided this sort of thing might suit me. Perhaps I find it a little difficult to describe how I feel about you—but if I can do something like this to show you . . . well. I don’t mind that.” Actually, she loved it. Loved the smile she’d put on his face, loved the happiness radiating from him even now. He was like the sun, but twice as vital to her existence. She was certain of that.

“All right,” he said softly. “All right.” Then he sank onto the puddle of petals at their feet, and she curled up in his lap and held him tight, as if he might disappear.

Lord, how she prayed he’d never disappear.

A slight breeze rustled her skirt, and his calloused thumb swept over her bare forearm in that slow, lazy arc she’d missed so fucking much. “I know this isn’t going to be easy,” she whispered. “But I want to try. I want to try with you, and not give up this time.”

“Good,” Zaf said. His eyes burned into hers as if he could stamp his words into her mind, into her heart. “I would rather be trying and stumbling with you than doing anything—seriously, absolutely anything—with anyone else.”

Dani swallowed back a lump of adoration and tried to sound lighthearted as opposed to disgracefully emotional. “Even if I don’t change my mildly controversial stance on anniversaries?”

“Fuck anniversaries,” he said promptly. “As a very smart woman once told me, that’s what Valentine’s Day is for.”

Dani’s laughter became tears after approximately two seconds. She threw her arms around him with such force that anyone else would’ve fallen—but Zaf didn’t. He took the hit and held her tight against his chest where she could feel his pounding heart, or maybe it was hers, or maybe they shared hearts now—she wasn’t quite sure how this romance arrangement worked. But she was sure she wanted it, no matter the risks.

“This love business is absolutely nonsensical,” she told him unsteadily.

“I know,” he replied. “Isn’t it great?”

EPILOGUE

One Year Later

Zaf shut the front door and hung up his coat, sweaty from an evening’s practice with his local amateur rugby league, and vibrating with a certainty that Danika was up to something.

They had a routine, on nights like this: as soon as he got home, she’d jump his bones and ask about his day. Apparently, she liked sweat. She also liked grilling him about meetings and workshops while playing with his dick, because it made her laugh when he got his words mixed up.