“You think it still works?” I ask, trailing my fingers over the clear plastic case of the record player.
“Only one way to find out.” He goes over to the record collection. “What do you feel like?”
“You pick.” I head to the windows to look at the moonlight over the water. The stars are so bright, this far from the city.
Tate puts a record on and heads to the big chair and settles into it, taking up so much space, eyes on me. His gaze is so sweet it makes my heart ache.
“Come here, Jordan.”
I go to him and sink into his warmth, resting my head against his chest to listen to the slow, steady tempo of his heartbeat, letting the rich sound of the music surround us.
Tate’s gaze strays out the windows, up at the sky. He scans the sky like he’s looking for something before his eyes drop back to mine and a secretive smile curls at the edges of his mouth.
“Looking for something?” I ask.
“Just waiting. But I can be patient.”
I get that feeling again, the slow fizz of happiness through me. God, I like him. God, I want him.
His fingers come to my chin, tilting my face to his. He gives me that soft, affectionate look that fills me with butterflies before he drops a sweet kiss on my lips.
Something urgent pounds in my chest. I’ve never felt like this with a man before. With anyone. If things don’t work out with Tate—I’d just—I don’t know.
It would devastate me.
I don’t want to think about that, here. I just want to be happy with him and not worry about the future, even if it’s for just a weekend.
“You can see the stars from my bedroom window, too.”
“Yeah?” His gaze turns interested and dips to my mouth again.
I nod, tucking my bottom lip between my teeth.
“Show me.”
CHAPTER 87
JORDAN
The next morning,Tate is curled around me, chest rising and falling with his steady breathing, skin warm, and the weight of his arm over me, clutching me to him. Even with my eyes closed, I sense the June morning light streaming in through the open windows. The gentle sounds of the shore, the birds chirping in the forest. A woodpecker, somewhere. Tate’s clean, masculine scent. The familiar smell of the summer house.
This moment is such intense comfort, such an intense feeling ofright.
With him, I’m home.
He shifts with a low groan, a hard length pressing against my backside, and heat pools between my legs.
“Good morning,” I whisper.
“Morning, honey.” Whether from him calling me that or the sleepy, delicious edge to his voice, I don’t know, but I melt against him a little more.
“How’d you sleep?” I back my hips up, pressing against him.
He groans again, frustrated this time, tilting his hips to meet mine, and his breath hitches as he grinds against me. “I think you know the answer to that.”
He squints out the window, expression changing as he props himself up.
“Jesus. That view.” He shakes his head in awe at the sparkling water. “This place is heaven.”
