Page 108 of His Surrender

I’m not sure how long we stay entwined together.

The rest of the world seems to disappear, leaving only the steady rhythm of our breathing and the warmth of her against me.

I’ve spent years believing intimacy was something physical. This wasn’t that. This wasn’t about desire. It was about trust and feeling more exposed with my heart than I ever had without my clothes.

I lift my head just enough to look at her.

She smiles—that small, sleepy smile that somehow manages to quiet every thought in my head.

I know I can no longer deny that we are more than just two people fooling around.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

AUBREY

After only a couple of weeks, we’ve somehow slipped into routines that feel like they’ve existed for years.

It’s Saturday morning, and Dean is making coffee while I make breakfast.

Liana supervises from her bouncer that we placed on the floor in the kitchen.

By ten o’clock, she finishes her bottle, rubs sleepy fists against her eyes, and drifts off almost the second Dean lays her in the crib in her room.

“I’ll give her an hour,” he whispers as we quietly close the nursery door.

“Optimistic.”

He smirks. “I’m manifesting.”

I laugh softly before following him into the family room.

Instead of disappearing into his office like he did the first week I lived here, Dean settles onto the couch with his laptop balanced across his knees.

“You have work to do?” I ask.

“Just a few emails.”

“I’ll keep you company.”

His smile is immediate. “I was hoping you would.”

I disappear into the kitchen long enough to grab my laptop before returning to the couch. The second I sit down, Dean stretches one long leg across the cushions until it bumps mine.

I glance over. “What are you doing?”

He doesn’t even look up from his screen. “Making sure you’re not too far away.”

I smile to myself and tuck my feet beneath one of his legs before opening my laptop.

A few moments later, I feel his foot gently nudge mine. I nudge him back.

After doing this absent-mindedly for a while, he looks over the top of his screen. “Are we playing footsie?”

I chuckle. “You started it.”

His grin is so unfairly attractive that I have to look back at my laptop before I completely forget why I opened it.

“So,” he says after a minute, “what are you working on?”