“I’ve been so scared.”
“I know, sweetheart. I know.”
He put his arms around me, and I curled into his chest. One of his hands slid into my hair, and I buried my face against his shoulder.
“We’ll figure it out,” he murmured against my hair. “I promise.”
I believed him, finally accepting that maybe letting someone help didn’t make me weak. Maybe it just made me human.
My breathing evened out, and the tears stopped.
When I rested my hand on his chest, his shirt was damp beneath it. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He moved the hair back from my face. “Feel better?”
“A little.” I let out a shaky laugh. “I’m still terrified.”
“That’s fair.” His thumb traced along my cheekbone.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“For what?”
“For being here. For not leaving when you saw what a mess I am.”
“Saff.” He waited until I looked at him. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve told you that so often you’re probably sick of hearing it, but I mean it.”
The way he looked at me made my pulse kick up. Not from fear this time. From want.
His gaze dropped to my eyes, then to my mouth. The air between us shifted.
“Saffron…”
“Yeah?”
“Tell me to leave.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because if I stay—” He stopped. Swallowed. “If I stay, I’m going to kiss you. And I don’t think I’ll be able to stop at just kissing.”
My heart hammered against my ribs. “I don’t want you to stop.”
His eyes darkened. “You need to be sure.”
“I am sure. I need you to stay. I need to be with you.”
His hands slid from my face down to my waist, and I rose up on my toes to kiss him.
He made a sound low in his throat and brought me closer. His mouth was warm and demanding.
His hands moved to my hips, then lower, gripping my thighs as he lifted me. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he pressed me against the wall, kissing me like he’d been starving for it.
“Upstairs,” I gasped against his mouth.
He leaned away enough to look at me, checking, making sure before he carried me toward the stairs.
13
