“You let me deal with that.”
“I see them when I close my eyes,” I whispered, twisting so I could press my forehead against his sternum. “Every time.”
“Me too,” he whispered, kissing the top of my head. “But they’re right down the hall. Safe and whole.”
“I know.”
“And I’m right here,” he said, tipping my head back. “Can’t promise we won’t ever have to go through hard shit again, but I can promise you that you’ll never deal with it alone. I love you more than I realized was fuckin’ possible. I love those kids like they came from me. I’m not goin’ anywhere, and you’re not either.”
“I’m scared,” I confessed. “I’m scared all the time. Of everything.”
“I know,” he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips over mine. “We’ll fix that too, baby.”
He shuffled me backward, and when we’d reached the door, he locked it.
We were nearly silent as we stripped ourselves bare, kissing and touching everything we could reach as we moved toward the bed. When we got there, Curtis shoved the bags onto the floor with a crash. A moment later, my back hit the comforter, and his body blanketed mine.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, pressing his lips to the spot between my neck and shoulder that made me shiver. “Don’t doubt that for a second.”
“I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”
He lifted his head. “I’ll want you until I’m dead,” he said simply.
“You said you love me.”
“Would’ve said it sooner,” he replied, brushing my hair away from my face. “Thought you knew.”
“I didn’t.”
“A little slow on the uptake,” he murmured teasingly, his lips pulling up at the corners.
“How was I supposed to recognize something I’ve never had before?”
“You recognize it now?”
I stared into his eyes. The anger that I’d seen in them when he found me packing hadn’t been anger at all. It had been fear. Now, they were soft. Indulgent. Warm. And I realized in that moment that he’d been looking at me that way since the beginning.
He adored me.
“Yeah,” I rasped.
“Good,” he whispered. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine again, sliding his tongue over my bottom lip.
We were quiet as we rediscovered each other. My back arched when he finally thrust inside, resting on his elbows as he cupped my face with both hands. It was languid and slow, both of us reveling in the connection that we’d been missing. Eventually, I came with a silent moan, my nails digging into his back. He followed thirty seconds later, his face pressed into my neck.
We lay there, still connected.
“I’ve been alone for a really long time,” I confessed into the quiet, holding him against me.
“You’re not anymore,” he promised.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t think you get it,” he said, lifting his head so he could look into my eyes. “You’ve been runnin’ a long time, baby. Moving every couple of years. Rentin’ furnished places so you could take off at a moment’s notice.”
“I wasn’t—” I protested.
“You did,” he said, cutting me off. “But you’re not anymore. You got nothin’ to run from now. You’re here with me.” He dragged his thumb over my bottom lip, his eyes intent on the movement. He lifted his eyes again. “We move? Dylan and I can carry the furniture now.”
