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long chapter for you loves warning for non-explicit sexual themes (?) 

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On Valentine's Day, Andy decides she wants to take things further with Rhysand.

More than the fleeting touches and soft kisses—she loves all of those, and she loves how careful he is with her, but although she's nervous, she wants to do more, and she wants it with Rhysand.

She doesn't mind sharing her naked body with someone who already fell in love with her naked soul.

Rhysand had said before that he thinks Valentine's Day is just an ordinary day with the pinks and the reds. But though he thinks it's lame, he agrees to go on a date with Andy anyway.

He picks her up from work in a dress shirt and slacks with gel in his hair and red roses and a small teddy bear in his hand. They go to a nice restaurant packed with people and eat expensive steak and wine. Then they go for ice cream afterwards in their fancy clothes and play footsie underneath the table.

At home, Andy puts the bear to sleep on Rhysand's bed, strips off her dress and makeup and drowns herself in Rhysand's comfortable clothes, tying her hair up in a bun. Barefoot, she pads down the staircase and joins Rhysand on the sofa, snuggling deeper into his warmth.

He's still in his dress shirt and slacks and he looks so handsome that Andy wants to jump him.

The thought makes her cheeks heat. She clears her throat.

"What?" Rhysand murmurs, fingers playing with her hair. His eyes are focused on the television.

Andy turns her head and brushes her lips along the curve of his neck. "Thank you for spending Valentine's with me. I know it's not your thing, but you went along with it, anyway."

Rhysand smooths his hand down her back, curling around the nape of her neck and toying with the metal of her necklace. "I told you it's 'cause I'm dating a romantic."

Andy bites her lip and thinks about what she wants to say next.

Rhysand must have noticed her anxiousness. He pulls back with a frown and asks, "What's bothering you? You've been quiet since the ride home."

Because Andy doesn't know how to tell him without wanting the ground to swallow her up. Her cheeks are flaming red and she can't look him in the eye. "Nothing," she mutters, turning toward the television and hugging her knees to her chest.

She'll tell him another time.

Rhysand presses, "Sunshine, did I do something wrong?"

Andy takes a deep breath. No, not another time. If she leaves this brewing in her thoughts, she'll go crazy with bottling it up and she promised Rhysand she'd tell him whatever's on her mind—

"Sanford." Rhysand sounds worried. "What did I—"

Screw it.

Andy gathers all of her courage and bravery and pushes Rhysand's shoulders, swinging her leg over his body to straddle his lap.

Rhysand's eyebrows raise, but his hands go to her waist as he looks up at her with questioning eyes.

Andy presses her body to his and leans forward to kiss him.

Rhysand kisses her back as softly, as easily as she had come to him. Andy loves the feeling of his kisses—intense, gentle, sweet and obnoxious, all at once.

She curls her hand around the nape of his neck and presses harder, opening her mouth to him when he asks.

But Rhysand squeezes her waist and pulls back, eyebrows drawn together. "Baby, what was that?"

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