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“Okay,” I murmur, and kiss Andre again, sweeter this time. Trying to show that I hear him, that I’ll trust enough to give this a chance. That he’s precious to me too, and so worth the wait.
But a sweet, innocent kiss can only last for so long.
Heat builds between us, a flush spreading over my skin as we grip harder, squeezing and nipping, and all innocence flies out the window. My low belly is hollow and aching, the friction between us driving me mad. Ineedhim.
Enough chit chat, already.
Four years is a long, long time.
Seven
Andre
Faith goes quiet again as I carry her up the stairs, and I chalk it up to worrying that I’ll miss a step. But when we reach her bedroom at the end of the hallway and she’sstillchewing on her bottom lip, I jiggle her in my arms.
“Check in, sweetheart. Doing okay?”
“Yes,” she whispers, rubbing her cheek against mine—and damn, the sweetness of that just about floors me. “Just getting in my head again. But I want this. I want you.”
I kick her bedroom door open, wincing at the bang. At least Stephen’s on another continent right now. The floorboards groan under our joined weight as I carry her toward the bed.
“Because we don’t need to do anything more right now. We don’t need to rush, Faith. I’m in this, okay? I’ll wait as long as you need.”
She scratches my chin like I’m a giant cat. “I know you will.”
Bed springs plunk as I lower her to the mattress. “So should I go cook us breakfast instead? I make mean skillet fries, you know. They’re not on the diner menu either.”
Faith’s eyes go round as she wriggles back, lying in the middle of the double bed. Her sheets are pale pink, and her quilt is patterned with tiny seashells. “Oh my god, I didn’t even think of that perk. Yourfood.”
“It’s all yours, sweetheart.”
Faith looks askance at her drawing desk in the corner, the one where she does all her freelance graphic design. “All I can offer you is a new logo for the diner.”
“You don’t need to offer me anything. I don’t need perks from you—just Faith.”
She snorts at my terrible pun, and when her arms lift toward me, I kick off my shoes faster than a blink. She’s not hungry for skillet fries?
That’s fine. I’m fucking starving forher.
Two minutes later, I’ve added ‘Fix bed frame’ to the mental list of things I can do for my girl, because this ancient wooden frame announces every time we move so much as an inch. The tortured wood screams out, the sound bouncing through the empty house, and… yeah.
This is not romantic.
“I’m sorry!” Faith wails as I climb back off the bed and pull her up by the hand. “I’ve never had a visitor in this bed. I didn’t realize it would be so noisy.”
“Never had a visitor in this specific bed?” I ask, dragging the quilt off and arranging it carefully on the rug. God knows Faith deserves better than a nest on the floor, but desperate times call for desperate measures. “Or never had a visitor in any bed?”
You know, I sound good. Casual. Not at all like my animal hearing has sharpened on her. Not at all like I’m holding my breath, suddenly desperate to hear her say the words.
It wouldn’t change anything either way, for the record. I’d be just as smitten, just as lucky, just as head over heels for this girl.
But yeah, I want to be Faith’s first and only. Sue me.
“I think you know,” she says, so sly. She nudges my side. “I think you already know and you want me to spell it out because you’re a caveman.”
Grabbing the pillows I toss them on our nest. “Guilty as charged.”
