“Can dinner keep?” he murmured against her mouth.
She nodded, wrapping her arms around his neck. Anything could keep.
Except this.
He lifted her off her feet, and she laughed breathlessly against his mouth at how easily he’d just hooked his arms under her butt and carried her deeper into her house. It was a little thrill, how strong he was. Howeasyit was for him to unerringly find her bedroom. Carefully lay her down on her bed and then cover her entire body with his.
She sighed into the sturdy weight of him. Being horizontal wasquitethe improvement to all their very vertical kissing. Everything about this was an improvement.
The way he touched her. The way she could touch him—pulling off his shirt, smoothing her hands over the impressive muscles of his arms, his chest. His hands on her bare skin, unclasping her bra. Losing pieces of clothing one by one until they moved together in one quiet rush and stilled…like theybothfelt that reverberating gong ofright. This, right here. Just…right.
Gard looked down at her, eyes blue and intense and…everything. He was so handsome. So good. She didn’t know how she’d stumbled into findingthis, but it was everything.
His mouth touched hers again, gentle, drugging, meaningful. Then just like in the other room, it sharpened. Need. Urgency.Now.
Then the heady race over edge after edge, until Gard fell with her and they tangled up together on her bed. Gard held her close as they both struggled to catch their breath.
She realized, very belatedly, she hadn’t had a chance to tell him all the things she was supposed to.
Oh well. She snuggled closer into him, reveling in this closeness, this intimacy, inhim.
She still would tell him everything. Over dinner. He’d tell her about work, and she’d tell him about her past and…
And if the moment felt right, maybe she’d even admit that her feelings for him were…probably a little deeper than he was ready for. Maybe.
She thought about the way he’d looked down at her. That intensity, but something more. That warmth, but something a little hesitant. Like he felt it too.
Maybe he did. He was holding her tight. He’d folded her into his life, but more than that, he’d let Sammy fold her into Sammy’s life. Thatmeantsomething to a man like Gard.
Maybe…
The future was full of maybes, and for the first time in a long time, that felt like a gift instead of a curse.
Gard lay inLia’s bed, holding her close. The pillow smelled like whatever her hair smelled like. Some kind of fruity shampoo he’d like to inhale forever.
Forever.
He’d never felt like this, and he knew what that meant. He had enough friends who were married to know that the path tothatstarted with a woman who felt different than the ones who’d come before.
Lia just slotted into place, and even though it left him a little uneasy over how he was going to make that work—his profession wasn’t exactly an easy one to build a partnership around. Add being the guardian to a surly teenager with some major baggage and there were likely to be all kinds of hurdles and pressures and struggles.
But he knew people who did it, who made relationships work and raised kids right along with it. He could make it work, even with a little bit of unease, because…
A life with Lia in it looked…a hell of a lot better than it had without.
Which meant he couldn’t chicken out of telling her that he was in love with her. And he wasn’t going to. He’d just had a bad day at work dealing with a particularly ugly domestic assault and thought maybe he’d wait until he felt a little less like there was no hope for humanity.
Then he’d walked into her house that had smelled amazing, and she’d looked so pretty and happy to see him, and she’d asked him what was wrong and he’d just…
He’d figured the talking part could come later. And it would. Because of course it was the right moment to tell her. She was always the right moment.
She slid away from him. “I better go make sure I didn’t leave any burners on. Don’t want to start any fires out of distraction.”
He let her get out of the bed, watched in appreciation for a moment or two while she pulled on her clothes before he followed suit. Yes, a good love declaration should probably include clothes. More serious, less heat of the moment. So she understood how…important it was. How weighty.
He’d managed to get his pants on, but before he’d pulled his shirt on, his phone chimed—the sound he had assigned only to Sammy’s contact number. He swore under his breath. When it chimed again, he realized it was an incoming call, not just a text. He couldn’t imagine why she’d call him while hanging out with her friends unless it was something bad.
He fumbled for the phone. “Sammy, what’s up?” he answered, trying to sound calm. “Everything okay?”
