I survived by holding the line. By being the one who controlled the chaos.
Then Carson came. Small and angry and full of fire, just two years younger than me. He needed someone. And I became that person. I gave him what I never had: stability. Loyalty. Protection. When I aged out, I took him with me. Claimed him as part of my family. My pack.
Now we’re here.
And I want to do that for her too.
I want to give her everything. Provide for her. Protect her. Keep her safe. Take care of her. I reach out, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear before I can stop myself.
“I want to take care of you,” I murmur. “Not because I’m being paid to.”
Her breath catches. Her lips part just slightly. I don’t need to touch her to know her heart is racing. I can smell her reaction. It hits me square in the chest, and something inside me pulls taut.
She leans into me—just a little—but it’s enough to make my body go tense.
Not out of fear. Out of want.
Need.
She’s not just a job anymore. She hasn’t been for a while. And that’s the most dangerous part of all.
Because if I ever lost her?
There wouldn’t be enough control in the world to put me back together.
“What if I said yes?” she whispers. “What if I want that too?”
Fuck.
My fingers curl tighter around the damp plate in the sink. Her voice—low, soft, the kind of tone meant for dark corners and tangled sheets—it knocks the breath from my lungs. A whisper, but there’s no way I could’ve missed it. Not with the way her scent spikes; sweet peaches and warm cream, wrapped in something deeper now, something heady. Need.
Slowly, I set the plate down, careful not to drop it. My heart hammers against my ribs, loud enough to drown out the sound of the running water.
I turn.
She’s standing close—too close—hands still wet, her eyesbright with challenge and heat. She’s testing me. Daring me to snap the leash I keep wrapped around my instincts.
“I’d say you don’t know what you’re agreeing to,” I rasp, taking one slow step forward, closing the smallest distance between us.
She lifts her chin, and I swear she trembles—not from fear, but anticipation. “Maybe I do.”
Her voice wavers, and it ignites something in me. Something dangerous. Something I’ve buried under years of discipline and duty.
I close the distance between us, pinning her between the counter and my body. Her breath stutters when I brace one hand on the marble behind her and reach with the other to tilt her chin up.
“You think I’m like Carson?” I murmur, brushing my nose along hers. “Playful. Teasing. Light.”
She doesn’t answer, but her breath comes quicker.
“I’m not.”
Her eyes flare.
“I’m not gentle,” I continue, dragging my knuckles down her arm. “I’m not soft. And I’m not the kind of man you try once and forget.”
She sways into me, lips parting. Her scent wraps around me again—so sweet it makes me ache.
“I don’t want gentle,” she whispers, and that’s it.
