No, she had been there all along. Brooklyn Heights had let her find herself, to bloom into the woman who had charmed the entire neighborhood.
His jacket was on the floor and his collar undone before he regained his senses. “Wait, we need to talk about what just happened.”
“Nothing happened.” She dragged her lips down the column of his throat and continued unbuttoning his shirt. “But something is about to happen.”
“Rose.” Ben held her shoulders and gently separated them. “I know you’re not all right after seeing your sister like that.”
She wrinkled her nose and shivered before waving her hand as though brushing the concern away. “I don’t need to go to Boston now. She’s having a baby, and everyone knew except me, and it’s delightful.”
A fist wrapped around his heart and clenched. “Rosie—”
“And now we don’t have to waste any time,” she interrupted, her lips spread in a wide smile that quivered at the edges. “I can be here, with you.”
“And I want that.”More than anything. “But I know you must be hurting.”
She shook her head and swiped at her eye, as though she could hide the tear. “It’s nothing, really. I’m not upset.” Rose winced when her voice broke on the last word and she trembled, moisture clouding her eyes.
Ben pulled her into his arms as the first sob escaped her throat. “Sweet Rose,” he whispered, stroking her hair.
“I want to be angry with her.” Rose buried her face in his open collar, tears soaking his skin. “For not telling me, for not involving me, but—” She gripped the edges of his shirt and burrowed herself against him. “She wanted to tell me, she tried.”
Ben kissed her forehead, wishing he could reach inside and take her pain away. He had seen women at their lowest points, against impossible odds, and he had always remained stoic; if he allowed himself to become emotionally involved, he couldn’t fix things, set steps in order to turn their lives around.
With Rose, he was lost. Her anguish reverberated through his chest, splintering him until he was desperate to help her, to heal her, but unable to think rationally.
“She wrote to me so many times, and I ignored every letter. She even came to Oxford this summer and I refused to see her.” Her breath gusted in rapid pants, and Ben rubbed his palms down her back, stroking again and again, but she wouldn’t calm.
Panic climbed his gut; the woman he loved—dammit,he loved her—was hurting and he couldn’t fix it.
She looked up, tears in her forest eyes glimmering like dew on verdant leaves. “Fern wronged me, but it was years ago. I should have forgiven her, like the rest of the family did. All this time…”
Rose trailed off in another wave of tears, and Ben pulled her close again. “You can still make things right, Rosie. She isn’t gone, she isn’t lost to you—”
She gasped and pulled away. “What a wretch I am. How can I possibly compare what I’ve lost to what you—”
Ben caught her words with a kiss, slowly and steadily moving his lips against hers until her shudders slowed, until her clenched fists relaxed and flattened on his breast. Could she feel how his heart rattled, how his chest swelled and might split open wide?
For so long, his heart lay dormant by his choice. He kept everyone at a distance, too afraid of the pain that had nearly destroyed him. But now, with Rose in his arms, he didn’t fear the pain.
This woman made him feel again, gave him the courage to give a part of himself away and trust it would be returned. He could soothe her, comfort her. This he could fix, even if it would only be temporary.
“Tell me what you need, my Rosie,” he whispered against her lips. He knew, but he wanted her to say it. The small kernel of doubt in his mind kept him from being weightless.
“I needyou, Ben.” Her voice was thready, vulnerable and raw as she leaned against him, giving herself into his trust.
No, he wasn’t weightless. He was grounded again. Fully present on this earth and not dwelling in the past. There was nowhere else he would rather be. “I’m here, Briar Rose, and I’m yours for as long as you need me.”
“Make me yours, Ben, please.”
His heart fluttered, just a bit, like it was trying to take off. She hadn’t said the words he wanted to hear, but neither had he. Perhaps he could show her, give her something to help her heal. To let her know she was loved, and needed, by him.
Ben drew her lips to his and continued his slow exploration of her mouth. For once, he did not feel rushed, as though their time was stolen, as though every taste of her lips did not rightly belong to him. But he was hers in a way she could never be his. Rose belonged to everyone who met her, to everyone who loved her.
A sigh escaped her lips, and Ben guided her through the apartment to his bed, laying her out like the precious gift she was. Her red-rimmed eyes were wide and trusting, and he wondered how often Rose allowed anyone to see her this vulnerable, this broken and needy.
He laid alongside her and kissed a path from her forehead down her cheekbone, along her jawline and down her throat as he finished opening the buttons of her blouse. Rose lifted her hand to assist, but he took it and, after a soft squeeze, laid it back on the blanket. “Let me take care of you,” he whispered.Please, I need to take care of you more than I’ve needed anything in quite some time.
She must have known what he needed as well, because her face softened, her eyes taking on a hazy, dreamy cast as he sat up to divest her of her blouse and short stays. After an awkward bit of fumbling that resulted in several smiles and even a giggle from Rose, he had her undressed in the late afternoon sunlight streaming through his window. He traced his finger down her sternum and along the curve of her stomach, over the arch of her hip and the swell of her thigh. “I never imagined finding someone like you.”
