He framed her face with his hands the way he would if he was cradling a figure made of spun glass. As if he couldn’t quite believe she let him touch her—or that he was worthy.
Or maybe she couldn’t believe she could have such a strong, amazing man who shared her love of books and the Black Heart Ranch, because her heart raced.
Gabe.
Her Gabe.
The realization struck her so hard her fingers curled into his shirt. She needed him closer. Now.
As if he heard her, he drew back just enough to search her eyes. His thumbs brushed her cheeks in a sweep as gentle as the sunrise. “You okay?”
His voice dipped low with a tenderness that melted her heart and molded it to the shape of him. It made her want to cry and smile and fall at the same time.
Only she was already falling.
“Better than okay.” She reached up to skim her fingers over his stubbled jaw, the carved lines familiar and warm and…home.
A fierce love uncoiled inside her, creating a sweet ache right in the middle of her chest.
Breathing hard, he lowered his forehead to hers. “I meant what I said, bookshop. About wanting you. About not walking away.”
A shiver of a deeper emotion wrapped in desire rippled through her.
“I feel the same.”
His breath caught. Suddenly the wall behind her wasn’t holding her up anymore—hewas. He slid his hands down to her waist, anchoring her with every inch of his muscled body.
“You’re not afraid?”
She shook her head, nose brushing his lightly. “No. When I’m with you, I’m not afraid of anything. Not life or people trashing my shop or…love.”
His eyes darkened. “Bookshop…”
The nickname made another tremble move through her. And that reaction had names too.
Claimed.
Cherished.
She brought her lips to his, and took her time kissing him, each stroke a new trail of love branded across their lips. She answered his growl with a soft moan, slipping her hands around his neck and threading into the hair that curled at his collar.
He brushed his knuckles down her jaw, letting his fingers rest over her pounding pulse at the base of her throat. Her heartbeat raced under his touch.
“I love how you feel. How you look at me. I don’t think you know what you’re doing to me.”
Her chest tightened.
“Tell me.” The words barely came out as a rasp.
“You make me feel alive again.” His lips pressed down on hers in a slow, lingering kiss.
Her insides cracked open. “Gabe.” She scraped her fingers across his broad shoulders, taking in the hard planes that could shield and love her at the same time.
She dragged her hands down his chest, skipping over hard pecs and rippled abs. When she reached his fly, she didn’t stop. She settled a hand over his stiff cock.
He issued a low groan. “I’m holding on to my control by threads.”
“Don’t,” she whispered.
