Page 87 of Miss Fortune

How could I possibly walk away now? My emotions hit a tipping point when he framed my face and took my lips in the softest kiss ever imagined. Never one to hold back, I was unable to restrain myself in this amazing moment and whispered, “I love you.”

As the words settled between us, both of us tensed.

Edit, undo. Control-Z. Rewind.

Frack.

His shocked gaze locked on mine. Could I have created a bigger recipe for disaster? Coming over on a work night, having sex with him bare, and now uttering forbidden words. I seemed to be hitting every possible red button available.

I moved to disengage and get up off of him, but he held me in place. “Wait.”

“No, I should go. It’s a Monday, and I’m sure you have a lot to get ready for tomorrow.”

“Did you not mean what you said?”

I couldn’t do this. Not with him still buried and pulsing—oh, God—deep inside of me. “Of course I did, but I didn’t mean to say it out loud and have you freak out.”

“I’m not freaking out. Matter of fact, if I were to gauge things, I’d say it’s you who’s freaking out.”

He wasn’t wrong. I was panicking about his reaction, but if he wasn’t freaking out, then why was I panicking? I took a deep breath.

“If I were to tell you I felt the same, how would that make you feel?”

I swallowed hard at the magnitude of his words. “It would make me feel like we both sucked at this non-relationship about the same.”

He chuckled, lifting me up slightly so he could pull out. “Let me help you up.” He balanced me while I got unsteadily to my feet. He quickly put on his shorts, scooped up my panties, and took my hand to lead me straight into the house and up his stairs to his bedroom. We didn’t speak while he stripped me of my dress and started his shower.

I wondered what was going through his head, but stayed quiet. I couldn’t trust my emotions wouldn’t come out as words again.

He opened his vanity drawer and took out a hair tie I must’ve left behind on some other occasion. Then, gently, he gathered up my hair and tied it up and out of the way. Next, he grabbed two washcloths and led me into the spacious shower. But instead of handing me a cloth, he soaped one up and began to wash me.

Dammit, just when I’d thought I’d reined in my emotions, he had me tearing up with the reverent way he was stroking my body.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Caleb

After Tabitha’s unexpected visit at the office, I’d gone straight home. Unfortunately, sipping a bourbon in the backyard didn’t bring me the soothing calm I’d hoped. Daisy’s text had been like a lifeline. I hadn’t possessed the strength to lie and say I was okay. Now she was here, and the ache in my chest eased for the first time in days. After my dispassionate divorce, I’d wondered if I was capable of heartbreak, but the past week had taught me I absolutely was.

She loved me. She might not have meant to say the words, but I was holding on to them with everything. Because one thing I knew for sure, I loved her too. The question was whether I trusted she would feel the same after I told her the truth about myself.

After spending time washing every inch of her body, partly to delay the impending talk, and also because I’d missed her so fucking much, I rinsed off the soap and finally turned off the water. I couldn’t delay any longer. Not if I wanted an opportunity to be with her.

Her big green eyes stayed focused on me while I wrapped her in a fluffy towel. Once we were both dry, I led her out to my bed, needing the intimacy of her gorgeous body curled around me.

“You asked for an explanation the other day, and I regret not giving you one.” Once we were cuddled together under the covers, I found my words. My fear over telling her the truth was irrational. The end result would be the same—I either told her and lost her, or I didn’t tell her and lost her.

“It’s not too late.”

I kissed the top of her head. “No, I don’t suppose it is. I’m not sure how to start.”

“Start with what’s easiest to talk about.”

I took a deep breath. It was all or nothing. “While I was growing up, it became clear I was different from the other kids. Socializing and making friends was a challenge for me. I obsessed over certain things, and I had a rough time with change or deviation in my routine. My parents were embarrassed by me.” It was the first time I’d said the words out loud.

“What would give you that idea?”

“I overheard my father telling my mother one night he wished he had a normal son. One who could follow in his footsteps and who wasn’t weird and antisocial.”