Lost Me Gained Regret

Chapter 492

Every word he said was like electricity, coursing from my ears straight to the very tip of my heart.

I let out a long sigh of relief, finally understanding the root of his mood swing at lunch.

Gregory noticed my sigh, a mix of relief and confusion dancing in his eyes. "Why the heavy sigh?"

"Really? You have to ask?"

I pinched his waist, a playful grunt escaping me. "You were there, sipping on your soup, and suddenly, the atmosphere around you just shifted. Scared me half to death."

Gregory paused for a moment, his voice dropping to a whisper, "Why didn't you ask me about it then?"

"I was scared," I admitted, fidgeting with my hands. Under the weight of his love, I felt myself piecing back together, no longer worried about appearances or awkwardness, but simply looking up at him. "I guess I've gone so long without truly having anything that I get scared of losing it before it's even mine."

No sooner had the words left my mouth than his hand found its way to my head, ruffling my hair affectionately. He leaned down, his eyes, bright and undeniable, locked onto mine with a mix of exasperation and fondness. "Take it slow, Jane. I'm only thirty. Even if I don't live to be a hundred, I've still got a good four or five decades in me."

"I have all that time to make up for what I missed in my first twenty-something years."

"And plenty of time to make you believe that you've truly got me."

"Me, Gregory, heart and soul, and every part of me, all belong to you."

His words, meant to be tender and moving, somehow carried an extra layer of flirtation coming from him.

He drew closer, his breath enveloping me, igniting a warmth that spread across my cheeks, ears, and neck.

If we kept locking eyes, my racing heart was sure to give me away.

Blushing and embarrassed, I wriggled out of his grip on my waist. "Who said I wanted your body, you rogue!"

"And how am I a rogue?" he teased, his laughter pushing me back until I had no more room to retreat. Then, in a swift motion, he scooped me up by the thighs and placed me gently on the entryway cab.

Stepping forward, he parted my legs with his, looking down at me. "Jane, let me show you what being a rogue really means."

Before I could protest, his lips claimed mine with an assertive passion.

I jolted in surprise, pushing him away. "What are you doing? Zoe might..."

"Zoe's already left."

His voice was raspy, as if grinded down by sandpaper, and with that, his fervent kiss descended once more.

As the twilight settled around us, leaving only the dim light of the entryway to illuminate our space, I felt a sense of fullness, of being cherished uniquely by the man before me.

In that drowsy, half-aware moment, I realized something profound: in- everyone's life, there's a chance to

be favored, cherished. Cont

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