His breath caught audibly. “Ella...”
“I meant what I said earlier, Jake. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The darkness made it easier to be brave, to say the things I might not in the light of day. “These past weeks—you’ve been my rock.”
He was silent for a long moment, and I worried I’d said too much. Then his hand found mine beneath the covers, his fingers with mine.
“When I saw you go through that ice,” he said, his voice tight with remembered fear, “my whole world stopped. All I could think was ‘not again.’”
“Again?” I asked softly.
He took a deep breath. “My wife and daughter. They died in a car accident. The car went off a bridge into a river.” His grip on my hand tightened. “I couldn’t save them. But with you... I had to. I couldn’t lose someone else to the water.”
My heart ached for him, for the pain he’d carried alone all this time. “Jake, I’m so sorry.”
“When I pulled you out,” he continued, as if needing to get the words out now that he’d started, “when you weren’t breathing... I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
I turned onto my side to face him fully, our joined hands resting between us. “Despite having hypothermia yourself, you didn’t give up. You and Declan brought me back.”
“I couldn’t let you go, because if you hadn’t made it, I was diving right back in that water,” he whispered. “I’m not sure I can ever let you go now.”
The raw honesty in his voice made my breath catch. Without thinking, I reached out with my free hand to touch his face, tracing the line of his jaw, the slight stubble rough beneath my fingertips.
“Then don’t.”
He caught my wrist gently, his eyes searching mine in the darkness. “Ella, you’ve been through hell. Your ex-fiancé is back from the dead. Your daughter just found out her father is alive. This isn’t the right time for—”
“For what?” I challenged softly. “For feeling something real? Something good in the middle of all this chaos?”
His thumb stroked the inside of my wrist, sending shivers up my arm. “I don’t want to be something you regret when the dust settles.”
“Jake Brennen,” I said, shifting closer until there were mere inches between us, “you could never be a regret. Not to me.”
I saw the moment his resolve crumbled—the slight parting of his lips, the darkening of his eyes.He released my wrist to cup my face, his touch achingly gentle.
“If you want me to stop,” he murmured, “at any point, just say the word.”
In answer, I closed the distance between us, pressing my lips to his. Unlike our first kiss—tentative, questioning—this one ignited immediately. His hand slid from my face to the back of my neck, drawing me closer as his mouth moved against mine with increasing urgency.
I gasped when his tongue traced the seam of my lips, opening to him without hesitation. The kiss deepened, his taste flooding my senses—coffee and bourbon. My hands found their way to his bare chest, palms flat against his warm skin, feeling his heart thundering beneath my touch.
He broke the kiss to trail his lips along my jaw, down the column of my throat. “God, Ella,” he breathed against my skin. “I’ve wanted this for so long.”
“How long?” I asked, my voice barely recognizable to my own ears.
His lips found a sensitive spot below my ear, making me arch against him. “Since the first time I saw you at the bakery,” he admitted. “Flour on your forehead, laughing with Helen.”
The thought that he’d noticed me, wanted me, for all that time, sent a thrill through me. I woundmy arms around his neck, pulling him closer until our bodies were flush against each other. The thin fabric of my t-shirt did nothing to disguise the hard planes of his chest against my breasts.
His hand slid under the hem of my shirt, callused fingers skimming the sensitive skin of my waist. “Is this okay?” he asked.
“More than okay,” I assured him, guiding his hand higher until it covered my breast.
He groaned softly when he realized I wasn’t wearing anything beneath the shirt, his thumb brushing over my nipple, drawing it into a tight peak. The sensation sent liquid heat pooling between my thighs.
I tugged at his shoulders, urging him over me. He moved carefully, bracing his weight on his forearms as he settled between my legs. The hard length of him pressed against me through our clothes, and I rolled my hips instinctively, seeking more friction.
“Ella,” he groaned, dropping his forehead to mine. “If we don’t slow down—”
“I don’t want to slow down,” I interrupted, my hands sliding down his back to the waistband of his sweatpants. “I want you, Jake. All of you. I have since the first day I saw you.”
