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There was too much at risk with Esme. He couldn’t imagine his life without her, and not only because she was a better parent than he could ever dream of being. She made him want to be better but seemed happy with him just as he was.
With Esme, he didn’t have to worry about needless complications or striving to hit some arbitrary expectation. He could completely relax, maybe for the first time in his life. Whether he was happy, sad or in between, she accepted his emotions with the gentle patience she showed their babies. As far as he could tell, nothing rattled Esme Fortune.
She was a gift, a true treasure, which made him wonder at the wisdom of giving in to his desire for her. What if he ended up wanting more than she was willing to give or vice versa? Ryder didn’t think he could handle being a parent alone now that he knew how good it felt to share the responsibility with her.
He paused in the upstairs hall and thought about knocking on the closed door to her bedroom. The worry that connecting with her on a deeper, intimate level would come with strings attached, no matter what either of them claimed, might plague him, but deep down he knew that continuing to resist would be a losing battle. He wanted Esme, and when Ryder’s mind became set on something, there was no stopping it.
But tonight, he didn’t knock. She deserved better than to be roused out of her peaceful sleep. A woman like her was worthy of sonnets and rose petals and...no. He shook his head at his idealistic thoughts, which could only lead to trouble, as he walked into the spare bedroom.
She didn’t want those things, not from him anyway. He’d be grateful for whatever scraps of affection she offered and adhere to any guidelines she set for their relationship. He would do whatever it took.
Ryder paused inside the doorway. Something was different. A lamp on the nightstand had been left on, and the sweet scent of vanilla lingered in the air. His heart began to hammer in his chest as he glanced over at the queen bed and saw Esme curled on her side, the sheet and quilt that covered her rising and falling as she breathed.
Was this his imagination playing tricks on him?
As if sensing him, Esme rolled over to face his direction, her eyes soft and sleepy. “Late night,” she murmured.
“Yes,” he managed to respond, although speaking around the desire surging through him was difficult.
“I tried to stay awake.” She sat up and patted the book on his pillow. “Didn’t quite make it.”
“But you’re here,” he observed, like she didn’t realize it. “In my room.” In his bed.
She inclined her head. “I hope that’s okay.”
“Yes,” he breathed like a prayer.
Her mouth curved into a sensual smile. “Do you want to come to bed?”
He toed off his boots and then started on the buttons of his shirt, his fingers shaking with need. Don’t read more into this moment, he counseled himself as he shrugged out of the crisp fabric. It was physical, convenient. They were friends with benefits.
None of it mattered because he wanted her so badly.
“How was your night on the town?” she asked, tucking a dark lock of hair behind one ear.
“Awful.” He took the wallet from his back pocket and pulled out a condom, approaching the bed to set them both on the nightstand.
“Really?” Her eyes widened as she tracked his movement. “I’ve heard The Corral is a lot of fun.”
“Nothing is fun without you.”
Her smile widened. “That’s not true.”
“It is for me,” he said, then shucked out of his jeans. Wearing only his boxers, he joined her on the bed, the mattress sagging slightly under his weight.
“Then I’m glad you’re home.”
Home. The word had never sounded so good.
“Are you staying in my bed tonight?” he asked, trying not to growl the question at her.
She seemed to think about her answer—for far too long, in Ryder’s opinion. “I was planning on it,” she answered and kissed him gently. “If that’s okay with you.”
He nearly groaned in response but, instead, pulled the sheet off her and then crawled up and over her, placing his knees on either side of her hips. “I’d keep you here forever if I could.”
Her green eyes darkened to the color of moss in a shady forest, and he trailed one finger along her jaw and lowered his head.
The kiss was practiced and controlled—that’s how it started, anyway. But Esme was so soft and pliant against him, her mouth perfectly fit to his. Soon, he lost himself in the taste of her, feeling reckless and wild. When she grazed her nails over the ridges of his shoulders, it nearly undid him.
