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He looked into her brown eyes, so familiar, yet different. “Georgia, last night, you said yourself that this—us—it’s too much. And I think you’re right. I think you need more time to heal. I want to do what is best for you.”

He stepped closer, needing to touch her. But she moved to the side, out of his reach. “I’ll be there for you, as a friend,” he added. “Whatever you need. You have my word.”

“You’ll always be my friend, Eric,” she said. “But I want more. After I left here last night . . .”

He saw the far-off look in her eyes and his concern snowballed. What had she done after she’d run from him last night? The idea of her seeking another rush flat-out terrified him. More than anything he needed her safe.

“After I left, I realized that the nightmares, the fears, those might always be a part of me. Hopefully, they’ll fade. I don’t know. I’ll ask the shrink the next time I see him.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re going back to therapy?”

She nodded. “I have something to say. I’m ready to talk to him. And you know why? Because I’ve figured out how to live my life to the fullest.”

“How?”

“I’ve fallen in love with you. You’ve always been a good friend, Eric. But what we have, it is more than sex. I trust you. I feel safe with you. But most important, I’m happy when I’m with you. You’re my friend, I’ve loved you practically forever, and now I’m in love with you. What could be better than that?”

She’d fallen in love. Hope surged, but doubt rose quickly to greet it. “Georgia, after everything you’ve been through, after what you said last night, how can you be sure—”

“That I’m in love? I know what I feel, Eric. The guilt that I lived, the need to feel worthy, that is still there. It might never go away. Falling in love with you didn’t ‘fix’ me. I was never broken.

“The other night you told me that who I am is enough. And you were right. I deserve to move forward with my life. I want to live every day to the fullest loving you. I want to spend the nights making love to you—wild, crazy, kinky, whatever you want, Mr. Straightlaced. I want to build a future with you. And you don’t need to worry I’m going to bolt. I won’t. I told you last night I’m strong. I can do this. Please say yes, Eric. Tell me you meant what you said last night when you told me you loved me.”

“Georgia, it’s not that simple.” She’d spun a complete one-eighty in a matter of hours. He wanted to believe her words. But the idea of pushing her too far, of sending her running away again . . .

“Eric,” she demanded, “did you mean what you said last night?”

“Georgia, I’ve always loved you,” he said. “And now . . .”

“We’re more. We’re lovers,” she said softly. “Don’t be afraid, Eric. Not of this. Not of us.”

“That’s not it.” Wasn’t he supposed to be the one looking out for her fears? He didn’t want to walk away. But he had to. For her.

“Eric, watch my hands.”

He stepped back. “No, Georgia. We can’t.”

Georgia touched the top button on her dress, pushing it through the hole. Her hand dropped to the next one. He knew he should leave, but his feet remained rooted to the floor, unwilling to walk away from the woman who, right or wrong, had become necessary to his life.

She undid the next button and the one below that until the dress fell open, revealing the soft slopes of her breasts. Lifting her hands to her shoulders, she drew the fabric down her arms, slipping one arm out, followed by the next. She slid the dress down her body, releasing the fabric at her hips, allowing it to fall to the floor. Stepping out of the center, she reached behind her back and undid her bra. It fell away from her breasts, joining her dress on the floor. Her hands moved to her hips, stripping away her underwear as she closed the space between them.

“Georgia,” he said, his voice strained.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. Staring up into his eyes, she ran her fingers through his short hair. She’d always been beautiful. But there was something about the certainty of her movements and the way she touched him without hesitation. Georgia wasn’t holding back. She was offering him everything—her body, her touch, her love.

But he couldn’t take it.

“Georgia, we can’t do this,” he said, closing his eyes, resting his forehead against hers.

“Shh.” She placed one finger over his lips. “Let me love you, Eric. Here. Now. It’s just us. Marie’s off today. Nate’s at school. It’s just you and me.”

She arched up, capturing his mouth, kissing him deeply as he fought to hold back. But with every naked inch of her pressed against him, his willpower headed for the door. He’d figure this out. He swore he would. If he’d screwed up, he’d make amends and make damn certain he chose the right path forward.

He reached for her, running his hands up from her lower back. His mouth still locked on hers, taking everything she offered, he trailed his fingertips over her ribcage around to her chest.

Using his body, he guided her back to the wall beside the archway leading to the front room. He held her there. Kissing. Exploring. His palms brushed over her breasts, teasing and taunting.

Eric broke their kiss. Glancing down, he watched his rough hands move over her soft skin. She pressed her hands against the wall as if seeking support, and he moved his thigh between her legs. Georgia rubbed up against him, riding him, and hell, he wished he’d stripped out of his clothes.

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