Mel came in, empty glass in hand. “Can I get another?”
I smiled. “Sweet, fruity, with a dash of orange liqueur. Slides down nice, doesn’t it?”
I made her another sangria, and we sat side by side at the kitchen island, eating in companionable silence. The only sounds were the low hum of the fridge and the soft clink of silverware against the plates. We were both lost in thought, but the quiet between us felt shared.
When we finished, I loaded the dishwasher and shut off the kitchen lights. Mel grabbed her overnight bag from near the door where she’d dropped it earlier. Without a word, we headed down the hall.
At my bedroom door, she stopped, eyes fixed on my chest. “Can you hold me tonight?”
My heart slammed into my ribs. I’d never held a woman all night without sex being a possible part of the connection. Especially not one this damn hot who clearly didn’t want a pillow fortress between us.
I took a deep breath. She was vulnerable tonight, so I guess exceptions were allowed. I scanned her face, she kept her eyes on my shirt.
Coach mode activated, I reached for her hand and led her in. My bed could fit three grown men. Tonight, it would hold the two of us, plus all the weight we were carrying.
Mel disappeared into the walk-in closet and came out like a fever dream. Her matching tank top and cotton shorts—tan with the faintest blush of pink hearts and bows—hugged her curves and showed off those damn legs. Legs I’d been trying not to think about. I almost forgot how to breathe, but managed to rein in, willing the sudden tightness to back the hell off.
I forced myself to look away before I said something that would derail the night. She slipped into bed, calm and casual, as if it was another bedtime routine. Only my pulse knew better.
I changed next, slower than usual, trying to reset. Because holding your emotionally vulnerable, sexy-as-hell girlfriend in your bed all night wasn’t a calm and collected activity. She’d asked for comfort. I agreed. Then she walked out looking like that, and I was a starving man staring at a buffet I wasn’t allowed to touch.
This was going to be a long night.
I slipped into bed behind her, and she turned, eyes soft. Her mouth brushed mine, and I kissed her back, heat simmering, restrained but sharp under the surface. Her fingers found my jaw, her thumb brushed the corner of my mouth, then her palmflattened over my chest. My heartbeat thrummed beneath her hand.
Pressing kisses to her cheek, her temple, the curve by her ear, I hugged her tight and she sighed into me, her breath warm against my neck. Her body relaxed, the slow rhythm of her breathing synced with my pulse, and that was how she fell asleep.
Only then did I finally relax.
Playing human teddy bear was harder than I imagined, having her this close kept me wide awake. I untangled our legs and pulled back as much as I could. Then my eyes rested on her face, so vulnerable, so beautiful… Her mother’s twisted fantasies echoed through my mind (obsession disguised as protection, criticism as care).
“It’s my mom. She sees my life—independent, in love, self-respected, and it burns her.”Her voice had trembled as she said it.
In love!
The words hit with a jolt, threading heat through my chest. She loved me. A truth I’d been waiting to hear, and I missed it in the swirl of her heartbreak.
Mel freaking loved me, and I was toast. Forty years old, divorced, and still getting undone by a woman in cotton shorts. Some things never change.
I pulled her close, burying my face in her hair. I’d been waiting a long time for this. Maybe since the day she trusted me to guide her across the ice. Or when she stood her ground with Logan, witty and unshaken. Or the night she face-planted into my shirt in tears—that night had changed everything.
What mattered now was that we were on the same page.
Mel chose me, on her own terms.
Hell, I’d marry her tomorrow. Giving her my keys had been a hint, and she finally saw the truth behind her mom’s jealousy. It was never about her.
Tonight, she chose to stay. To be here. In my bed.
That wrecked me in the best way.
I was happy to be the place she landed, the guy who was all in, not someone who’d leave her hanging. Three years alone since Evie’s fling had been too long. Now, Mel had kicked open a locked door, and I wanted this again and again, every damn night. I grinned like a fool and drifted off, high on something I hadn’t felt in years.
I stirred awake, morning light filtering through the window. Before my eyes even opened, strands of silky hair brushed my skin, and a blossom scent filled my lungs. Mel.
Peeking through my lashes, I found her hair spilled across my chest, her body tangled around me in warmth and intimacy. My fingers instinctively tucked loose strands behind her ear, memorizing how she slept in my arms.
She shifted slightly, exhaling a soft breath against my neck.
