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Page 94 of Beauty and the Beach

So I take another deep breath, hold it in my lungs, pinch my nose shut.

Then I crouch down and submerge myself completely, the kiss of chilled water on my lips and in my hair. I know a brief moment of panic, mind-numbing and all-consuming. But I force myself to wait one more second.

Then I rise—and I am reborn.

“You’re all wet.”

“Yes.” Phoenix’s dry voice sounds in my ear, his arms wrapped around my waist from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder as the water laps at our legs. “Water has that effect.”

“You’re so hilarious,” I say, rolling my eyes and folding my arms over his clasped hands. “How did I ever live without your wit?”

“I’ve always lived without yours,” he says, and I can hear his smirk. “You’ve never been funny.”

I gasp and spin around to face him. “I am literally the funniest person you know”—he presses a quick kiss to my lips—“with an incredible personality”—he sneaks another kiss as his smirk morphs into something more real—“and a real winning attitude.”

“Are you cold, sweetheart?” he murmurs, pulling me closer. “Are you cold, funniest person I know?”

“Yes,” I admit, and he lets go of me immediately. He takes my hand and turns toward the shore, and I follow, wading through the water until we’ve reached the shallows. Then he lets go and emerges from the river in a few strides, leaning down to grab his suit coat from where it rests on the bank.

When he reaches me again, he drapes the jacket over my shoulders.

“There,” he says as I burrow into the coat. He looks down at me for a moment, his gaze warm as it flits over my face. Thenhe adds, “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you,” I say, shuffling closer to him, and he wraps his arms around me once more. “I’m proud of me too.”

“You should be.” I watch his throat bob as he swallows. “Hey,” he says suddenly, his voice hoarse. “Should we get married?”

I blink up at him. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but…we’re already married. You must have missed it.”

“Imeant,” he says as I snicker like an immature child, “should we—you know—” He swallows again. “Should we have a real wedding?”

Oh.My eyes widen as the idea sinks in, and I reach up, cradling his face—with its hesitant, unsure expression—in my palms.

“Do youwanta real wedding?” I say.

“I want you,” he answers frankly. “And…I guess I want the world to know you’re mine.”

“Ah,” I say. “So it’s a caveman ownership possession thing.”

“No,” he says, looking frustrated now. “I’m not a caveman.”

“You’ve thrown me over your shoulder, dragged me along behind you, and called meyours.Sounds like?—”

“Youaremine,” he says as his arms tighten around my waist, his eyes glinting. “And I regret none of the other stuff.”

“Exactly,” I say. “Which makes you a caveman. Because look, Husband”—his gaze heats—“I’m not yours. Okay? I’m mine. I belong to me. If I choose to give myself to you, fine,” I go on, “but I do notbelongto anyone.”

“Wrong,” he breathes. He lifts one hand and runs his thumb slowly over my bottom lip, and I shiver despite my jacket. “These are mine,” he says. Then he trails one finger down my jaw. “This is mine. This” —he wraps his armtighter around my waist, pressing my body against his—“is mine. And this…” Last of all he moves his hand and touches my chest, just over my heart. “This is mine too. Your heart is mine.”

“Only if I give it to you,” I insist.

He dips his head. “Then give it to me,” he whispers against my lips. “All of it—all of you. I want all of you.”

But I know, deep down, that all of me is already his.

“Let’s get married,” I say, kissing him lightly. “Again.”

Phoenix