Long blond lashes fan over his cheeks and he swallows.
“Tell me the truth, Jonah.” I wait for his answer, and my stomach churns as a feeling of detachment claws its way up my throat.
“I don’t want to pressure you.”
“You never have.”
“I know, and look where it’s gotten me—in your arms and in your heart. I don’t wanna risk this.”
“Baby, you’re scaring me. Please, just tell me what’s wrong? I promise, we can work through it together.”
“You trust me, right?”
“Of course I do.”
When his haunting eyes finally meet mine, I stop breathing. “Then why haven’t you invited me inside your home yet?”
My pulse won’t slow, even though his body is warm against mine. The question hangs between us, heavier than it should be, sharp in a way I thought it might be.
Why haven’t I invited him in? Almost a month together, six months of circling each other like something fragile and precious, and I’ve still kept that door shut. I tell myselfit was caution, habit, survival—but lying here now, with distance pressing into my chest, I know it’s fear wearing a better name. Letting him cross that threshold means trusting him with the one place my past still owns. But I’m tired of shutting myself in.
Moreover, I’m tired of shutting him out.
If I want him to stay, then I have to do the thing that scares me most and open the door I’ve been guarding for years.
“I do trust you. I trust you with my heart, and I trust you with my daughters. There’s no reason I should keep you out of my home any longer.” I press my forehead to his. “I’m so sorry I made you wait this long. I’m sorry I hurt you and made you doubt just how much I trust you. First thing tomorrow, we’re having breakfast at my place.”
He rears back, eyes blown wide with pure delight. “Really?”
“The girls pre-made cinnamon rolls for tomorrow.”
He bites his bottom lip and groans as his eyes roll back. And it’s such a quintessential Jonah expression, it’s impossible not to find joy in it. My heart flutters when his sunshine returns, and with faith renewed, I seal my promise on his lips.
“Thank you, Renée.”
The muscles in his neck work beneath my palm, and a lovely idea comes to mind—one that I think would show him beyond the shadow of a doubt how serious I am about us.
“How would you feel about a collar?”
“It’s a little formal for bedtime, don’t you think?”
I smile. “No, like a submissive’s collar.”
“Oh, like a kink thing. Sure, why not? I am your dog afterall,” he says with a smirk.
“Well, there’s more to it than that. When a dominant collars their submissive, it’s a symbol of commitment, ownership,and trust. It signifies they’re in a serious relationship.”
Jonah’s O-shaped mouth morphs into a wide smile, like the idea has been drilled in and there’s no way to pull it out now.
Good—because he’s mine.
“You wanna collar me, Professor?”
“I do.”
Chapter 39
Inside
