Pulling the edges of the shirt around her, she straightened. Eli’s hands instantly went to her waist, steadying her. She loved that about him. The little things he did, even more than the big things, made her love him more. He always saw to her comfort—especially after they made love.

He tipped her head up and kissed her slowly, gently, his golden eyes almost liquid as they looked into hers. “I do love you, Catarina,” he said softly. “More than my own life. I do love you.”

She leaned into him. His strength surrounded her. Protected her. She realized in that moment, that’s what Eli did. He made certain she was protected, but he allowed her to stand on her own. He wanted her to be as confident in herself and in her ability to survive any situation without him. He’d been working toward that end almost from the moment she met him.

“I love you right back the same way, Eli,” she said softly. “More than my own life.” She’d give up everything to know he was safe. Alive. Healthy.

He dipped his head as if he might kiss her again, but his lips veered to her ear. “Make my coffee, woman.”

She went straight to the coffee machine, laughing as she did so. “Go clean up and I’ll have it ready when you come back.”

She put extra love into his favorite caramel drink. She always teased him, saying the caramel sweetened him. He said it was the extra shots of espresso. Whichever it was didn’t matter, only that smile he gave her when he took his first sip.

Eli returned looking casual in his drawstring pants and light shirt. She knew he wore them, like most shifters, to be able to get out of them fast. His arm swooped around her waist as he took the coffee from her. She watched as he took that first sip and then looked down at her.

“You’re a fucking miracle, Catarina,” he said, meaning it.

She brushed a kiss over his jaw. “When we have children, Eli, you’re going to have to watch your mouth. But this one time, I’ll admit, I rather like being your fucking miracle.”

He blinked. His mouth twitched. He leaned down and brushed another kiss over her lips. “You don’t get to swear. It doesn’t sound the same. And for your information, I have been toning it down.”

She burst out laughing again. “No way. You let go with two f-bombs in one sentence. That is not toning it down.”

“Two exceptions, Kitten.” He nuzzled the top of her head with his chin. “When you make me so angry I want to shake you until your teeth rattle, or put you over my knee and make it so you can’t sit down for a week or two, I get to drop as many f-bombs as necessary to keep from doing either.”