“Sleep, Tilly.” I step back. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
She nods, still looking dazed, and I turn and walk out. I close the door softly behind me and stand there, listening to the quiet sounds of her moving around the room.
My hands are shaking. I press them flat against the door, feeling the solid wood under my palms.
I build up the fire and settle onto the couch with a blanket. My mind replays the evening, her hand in mine, the way her bodyrelaxed when I promised her a choice, the moment she admitted she was glad I’d claimed her. The taste of her mouth. The small sound she made when I kissed her.
Tomorrow I’ll show her I meant every word. Tomorrow I’ll start building the foundation for keeping her.
But tonight, she’s here. Safe. Warm. Resting in my bed after kissing me like she’d been waiting for it as long as I had.
For the first time since the fire, hope doesn’t feel dangerous.
Chapter three
Tilly
Iwake with the taste of him still on my lips. My mouth feels tender, slightly swollen, and when I run my tongue across my bottom lip, the memory of last night’s kiss floods back with enough heat to make my face flush. The mattress beneath me supports my lower back in a way my sagging apartment bed never has, and for the first time in months, nothing hurts.
Golden light filters through unfamiliar curtains. The quilt smells like cedar and woodsmoke, and my body feels heavy in the best way, muscles loose and warm. I stretch, testing my spine. The constant knot between my shoulder blades has reduced to a dull ache instead of the sharp pull I’ve grown used to.
The bedroom has oak furniture fitted so precisely I can’t find the seams, a dresser against one wall, and through the window, snow falling in thick, lazy flakes. A new toothbrush sits in its package on the bathroom counter. The small gesture makes my chest ache.
When I open the bedroom door, Davin stands at the stove in a thermal shirt stretched across his shoulders and jeans hanginglow on his hips. His feet are bare on the wood floor. Seeing him relaxed and domestic in his own space makes my stomach flip.
He turns at the sound of the door, and his eyes track over me in one slow sweep. Not leering. Checking.
“Morning,” he says, voice rough with sleep.
“Morning.” I slide onto a bar stool at the kitchen island. “You didn’t have to let me sleep in.”
“You needed it.” He pours coffee into a mug and sets it in front of me with cream and sugar. “How’s your back?”
“Better, actually. That mattress is amazing.”
“Good.” He turns back to the stove where eggs are cooking in a cast-iron pan. “Storm’s still going. Roads won’t clear until tomorrow at the earliest.”
The news should make me panic. Instead, sitting in his warm kitchen watching him cook, all I feel is relief.
“I should call someone,” I say. “Let them know where I am.”
“Already handled. I called the bookstore this morning. Mika said word got out after we left the auction together.”
The casual competence makes my throat tight. “Thank you.”
He plates eggs with toast and bacon, setting a full breakfast in front of me before taking the stool beside mine. Not across from me. Beside me, close enough that his knee brushes my thigh when he shifts.
I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until food sits in front of me. I eat without speaking, too focused on the simple pleasure of a hot meal I didn’t have to make myself. Davin eats beside me, his presence solid and unhurried. He doesn’t fill the silence with small talk. He just exists next to me, and somehow that’s exactly what I need.
When my plate is empty, I set my fork down. “I need to be honest about something.”
His expression doesn’t change. “Okay.”
“My last relationship didn’t end well. I spent those years being told I was too much work. Too needy. Too exhausting. So I learned to handle everything myself.” I wrap my hands around my coffee mug, feeling the ceramic warm under my palms. “And now you’re here, doing all these things for me, and part of me keeps waiting for you to realize I’m not worth the effort.”
Davin sets his mug down and turns on his stool to face me fully. His knee presses against mine, grounding me. “Look at me.”
I do. His gaze holds mine with enough intensity to make my pulse kick.
