He saw the shift in my face, got to his feet and stepped closer. He hit the stop button on the treadmill, then tugged me off until I stood in front of him.
“I’m a practical man,” he said, his voice low. “You’ve figured that out by now. I haven’t spent years replaying the possibility that she’d change her mind and come back.”
He cupped my face, and I cringed. I was soaked in sweat. It had to be gross. But he didn’t flinch. He just held my gaze, steady and unblinking.
“But if she came to me today,” he said softly, “if she walked through that door right now and asked to be with me … I’d say no.”
“You have to say that,” I whispered, hating who I was right now. Hating that he could see how much this hurt.
His mouth tipped up into a small, humorless smirk. “You know me well enough to know I’m not compelled to say anything I don’t mean.” He leaned in, close enough that his breath warmed my cheek. “Honesty. Remember? I meant it when I made that promise. I need you to believe me.”
“I do,” I whispered, desperate to look away but afraid it would feel like losing.
“It’s you I want, Harper Adams.” His voice roughened. “Someone who understands me and my world. A partner who isn’t afraid to get messy.” His mouth tipped. “And last week, after we were run off the road? That was pretty damn messy.”
Messy was one word for killing nearly a dozen men.
“No one’s ever fought for me like that, Harper,” he said, almost a whisper. “Do you have any idea what that means to me?”
“It wasn’t a decision, James,” I said. “I just … did it.”
“You could’ve run off into the woods and saved yourself.” His gaze held mine. “But you knew I couldn’t run. You stayed and fought for me.”
We’d promised honesty, so I forced myself to be vulnerable. “Yes,” I said, my voice fierce. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
His eyes burned. “I want you, Harper.”
I closed my eyes and dragged in a breath, hating that I was becoming so damn needy. “I’m sorry.”
“Hey.” He brushed my check with his thumb until I opened my eyes.
“Don’t apologize,” he said softly. “We’re both workin’ through a tangle of things we’re not used to feeling.” One brow lifted. “And you’re lucky I know Limp Dick never really meant much to you or we’d be dealing with a whole different mess right now.”
I snorted, shaking my head.
His expression sobered. “I’m not sorry for my time with her. I learned things. I’d like to think it helped get me where I am now.”
“We both have a past,” I said, swallowing hard. “And it’s weird that I’m thirty-six years old and have never been in love. Your past loves shouldn’t bother me.” I met his eyes. “I just worry I’m not enough.”
“You’re everything I need.”
“You need an alcoholic with major insecurity and mommy-and-daddy issues?” I asked wryly.
“If that comes with the package of the sharp, stubborn, tough-as-hell woman standing in front of me, then yes. That’s exactly what I need.”
“I need you too,” I whispered.
A slow grin spread across his face. “How hard was that for you admit?”
“Harder than it should have been.”
“We’ll work on that.” He kissed me, tender and steady. “Do you need to run more, or are you ready to go upstairs?”
“I’m ready.”
He dropped his hands from my face, then grabbed a rolled towel from on top of the refrigerator.
I took it and wiped my face. “You must have it bad for me if you still want me after seeing me a sweaty, red-faced mess, not to mention, I must stink.”
