How to be loved

Only you

How to be loved

68 – Only you

Becky's POV

I woke to the soft scent of vanilla, mingled with Freen's natural fragrance—a blend so uniquely hers, so addictive, it seemed to seep into my very soul. My eyes fluttered open slowly, heavy with the kind of contentment I could lose myself in. My face rested in the crook of her neck, her warmth cradling me like the safest place I'd ever known. For a moment, I didn't move. I didn't want to. If time stopped right now, I would have no complaints.

I tightened my arms around her, pulling her closer, as though I could fuse her body with mine. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. And then, just as I thought my heart couldn't hold more, she moved.

It was the faintest shift, the kind you might miss if you weren't paying attention—but I was always paying attention to her. She leaned back into me, her body instinctively softening, yielding, as if she were melting into my embrace. My breath hitched at the sensation, a surge of emotion flooding through me like a wave threatening to pull me under.

There was something in the way she surrendered so naturally, so fully. It felt like trust, like love, like she belonged to me as much as I belonged to her. It was a wordless reassurance, a silent declaration that she felt safe with me, that she wanted me as much as I wanted her.

The sheer vulnerability of it unraveled me. My heart ached in the best way possible, full and brimming with love so intense it felt like a physical force. God, what did I do to deserve her?

My lips brushed the back of her head in the gentlest of kisses. "I love you," I whispered, the words barely a breath, meant only for her. I lingered there, closing my eyes as I savored her scent, her warmth, the feel of her body pressed against mine. She was everything—my calm, my clarity, my home.

I stayed like that, breathing her in, memorizing the way she felt in my arms, as if I could somehow imprint this moment onto my soul. The rest of the world faded into nothingness. It didn't matter that the responsibilities I'd been juggling were still waiting. Not right now. Not when I had her like this.

This weekend was one of the rare times I'd managed to steal for just us. My ties to Armstrong Company were still holding me in place, thin as they felt now. I couldn't walk away without clearing the slate properly—there were too many projects bearing my name, too many people counting on me to simply vanish. And despite everything, it was still my family's company.

Freen had her own tether to Armstrong through her contract. We'd talked about it at length, deciding together that if the company didn't take any vindictive action against her after everything that had happened, she'd see it through. We both knew it wasn't forever. Once her contract was up, we'd make decisions about what came next. Together.

Nearly two months had passed since the night I left my family's mansion. Two months of silence—no calls, no messages. It was a strange kind of void, equal parts liberation and heartache. But I didn't want to think about that now.

All that mattered in this moment was the woman in my arms. Freen, leaning into me, grounding me in ways I never thought possible. She was my anchor, my reason, my everything. And as I held her, I silently promised to cherish every second we had.

"Baby?" she murmured softly, her voice barely audible as it wove through the quiet of the morning. It was a sound so gentle, so tentative, it tugged at my heart. She was testing the waters, checking if I was awake without wanting to disturb the moment.

"Hmmm," I hummed, the vibration low and content as I buried my face further into the crook of her neck. My lips brushed her skin, and I tightened my arms around her, pulling her even closer. "I'm awake, babe. Just savoring your smell."