“I won’t decide that I just want to be your friend, Win.”
“You don’t know that.”
She takes her hand from my face and rests it above her left breast. “I do, because my heart tells me thatthislove isn’t the ‘I love you as a friend’ kind. And I know exactly what that’s like because it’s how I feel about Sam. With you, it’s different. It hasalwaysbeen different. Don’t you remember me hugging you too long outside the motel?”
I nod. She’d clung to me. “You were relieved I’d helped you find Ben.”
She snorts. “My thoughts weren’tthatinnocent, Win. Yes, I was relieved you’d helped find Ben, but I couldn’t make myself let you go. That’s why.”
I stare at her, afraid to hope.Terrifiedto ask her to repeat it in case this is wishful thinking and I’ll wake up in a few minutes, alone in my bed.
She smiles. “I mean it, Win. I love you, so please stop looking at me as if you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. There is no other shoe. I come to you with bare feet to tell you that I love you so much, and hoping you feel the same way.”
“I love you too, Rose.” I draw her into a hug. “And I’ve never been happier since you and Ben moved in here. None of us have.”
She laughs. “I told myself I was nuts for moving in with men I barely knew, and that something would go wrong. But everything went right.” She tips her head back to meet my gaze. “That’s because of you. You gave Ben and me the safest, happiest, and most perfect place to call home. But I don’t love this house half as much as I love you.”
I kiss her softly at first, then more desperately until we break apart, our breathing unsteady and our foreheads touching.
“And…” Her voice trails off, and her cheeks turn pink.
“And?” I ask, beyond curious about the reason for her pink cheeks.
Her gaze skates away from me, and she clears her throat. “Um, I might have had thoughts about you touching me in places that aren’t the least bit friendly. That’s how I can be utterly sure that my feelings for you aren’t the platonic kind.”
She studies the wall, her cheeks pink; I stare at her, my pants increasingly tight.
“Like?”
She darts a rapid glance at me. “Um, my body.”
My gaze drops, and it’s becoming a battle not to adjust myself in my pants. She’s petite yet curvy, and there are a million places I want to touch her, but I’m curious about what she’d want. “Anywhere in particular?”
She gestures to her chest. “My breasts.”
I wet my lower lip with the tip of my tongue, anticipating tasting her, and not just her breasts. “Which one?”
Her eyes snap toward me. “What?”
“Which one? Or was I just?—”
“The right,” she blurts, then blushes even harder as she yanks her gaze back to the wall.
“Over your shirt or under it?” I ask, my voice husky.
She takes a breath and lets it out in a soft exhale. “Under it.”
Hesitating for a beat, I lift my hand and slip it under her shirt. She’s not wearing a bra under her cotton pajamas, and I struggle with this new bit of information as I marvel at how soft, warm, and satiny her skin is. I’ve imagined this. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t, but imagination and reality are worlds apart. Entireuniversesapart.
She stops breathing. Hell, I’m probably breathing fast enough for the both of us.
Her breath returns in awhooshas my fingers brush the underside of her right breast. A small sound escapes her slightly parted lips, half-sigh of relief, half-moan.
Knowing she likes it from her response, I cup her breast and gently stroke the pebbled nipple with my thumb while lowering my face to hers. “Where else was I touching you? Or was I kissing you at the same time?”
Her eyes settle on my mouth, and her gaze is hungry. “Kissing me. Definitely. Before… um, more touching in other places.”
I smile and brush my lips across hers. She lifts her chin, returning the kiss as eagerly as she always does. Her hands slide around my shoulders as I gently lay her back on the bed. As much as I struggle to believe this is real, it feels so right.
