Slowly, he peels off my jacket, tossing it aside. He meets my mouth with a gentle kiss that grows deeper, that promises more. Today. Tomorrow. Forever.

“Bea.” His nose nuzzles my cheek, followed by a kiss. “You’re so beautiful.”

“So are you,” I whisper. “Even if I almost didn’t recognize you. You have wrinkles in your clothes.”

“My phone went off while I was in the shower.” Another slow, deep kiss. “Then I saw it was you. Which led to the world’s fastest wardrobe change.”

“My precious Capricorn.” I straighten his collar. “You still ironed your underwear, didn’t you?”

“I’ve never ironed my underwear, you gremlin.”

“Did you know,” I ask, as Jamie walks us back to his bed, sitting, then drawing me onto his lap, “that Cancers and Capricorns are ideal pairings?”

“Yes,” he says, taking my hand and kissing my palm, slipping his fingertips beneath my sweatshirt, grazing my stomach, my waist. “Because they are opposing signs, they share a strong complementary attraction.”

“Wow. First the wrinkles. Now you know your zodiac. Who are you?”

“The same man who loved you the last time he saw you and is so damn glad he’s holding you now. I’m really holding you,” he says, kissing my throat, cupping my breasts. I suck in a breath and squirm on his lap, where he’s hard and thick inside his pants.

“You are,” I tell him faintly. “And I love you. Did I mention that?”

His crooked grin fills my heart to the glittering brim, tints the world luscious, in-love lavender. “You did.” My sweatshirt is peeled off, my body pressed back onto the bed. “But I’ll listen to you say it all day long.”

“I love you.” I watch him remove his glasses, his button-up; yank a tight white undershirt over the back of his head and toss it aside. Watch him slip off my boots, then my socks, drag my leggings down my body. Marvel as he shucks his shoes and pants and briefs, as he crawls over me and presses our bodies together.

“Again,” he says roughly, his breath hot on my neck as he kisses me, tastes me, the clean warmth of his skin heating mine, making me shiver. “Tell me again.”

“I love you.”

“How much?” His hands weigh my breasts, thumbs teasing my nipples. His kiss is harder, possessive. The man he is only for me, only with me.

“Hmm . . .” I bite my lip as he kisses his way down my body. “I love you a . . . reasonable amount.”

His head pops up. He frowns. “Reasonable.”

“Mm-hmm.” I’m teasing him, and he knows it. He knows how much I love him. I’ve told him. And now I’ve shown him. I’m here in his arms, and I’m never leaving them again.

His eyes narrow, but his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “Beatrice.”

“James?”