The warm glow of the bedside lamp revealed the room. It still held the basics of his uncle’s doing—the sturdy oak furniture, the pale blue curtains, and the framed prints of lighthouses on the walls. But Tess had left her mark. A discarded shirt was draped over the back of the chair, and the sandals she’d worn earlier were tucked neatly by the bed. Personal items were strewn across the dresser, and a bulging tote bag sat on the floor beside it. A paperback lay open on the nightstand beside a half-empty glass of water, and the faint scent of her perfume lingered in the air, softening the space until it felt less like a borrowed room and more like hers.
She let go of his hand then turned to face him, waiting, her breath uneven but her gaze steady.
As the air thickened between them, he shut the door behind him.
Chapter 17
Brian stood a few feet away in the soft lamplight of her bedroom, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders tight like he didn’t quite trust himself to move yet. He looked different tonight—no badge, weapon, or professional distance. Just a man standing in her space.
Tess watched him quietly as she kicked off her slippers.
The room still carried the faint scent of the candle she’d lit earlier while getting ready for dinner—something warm and subtle—and beneath it, clean sheets and salt air drifting in through the cracked window.
And him.
Her pulse kicked up.
He didn’t rush her. Didn’t fill the silence. He just looked at her slowly, deliberately, like he was taking inventory.
Bare feet on the carpet. Her sundress brushing her thighs. The light sweater she’d slipped on before stepping back outside, still wrapped loosely around her shoulders.
She felt exposed anyway.
“This is the part where one of us says something smart.” She knew they were about to complicate everything. She also knew she didn’t care—not enough to stop.
He let out a breath that sounded like a laugh he hadn’t meant to make. “Yeah. I’ve got nothing.”
Her mouth curved upward.
He crossed the room then, stopping in front of her, close enough that she could feel his warmth. The air between them tightened—charged and heavy.
For several breaths, his gaze moved over her features with quiet focus, as if looking for hesitation.
She didn’t give him any.
Only then did he lift his hand, skimming his knuckles along her jaw and tucking her hair behind her ear. The caress was gentle, almost careful. Her skin tingled under his touch, and she leaned into it without thinking.
Need grew deep within her, but she wanted to savor every second of what came next.
His throat moved as he swallowed, drawing her attention.
Her own thoughts scattered when she noticed his carotid artery pulsating wildly. Practical things tried tosurface—timing, complications, consequences—but then she placed her hands on his chest, right over his heart, and felt how hard it was beating beneath her palms.
“Tess,” he said quietly. “Tell me again that you want this.”
Her answer came easily. “I do want this. I wantyou.”
The words landed solidly between them.
His shoulders dropped a fraction, as something had finally loosened. He bent and kissed her slowly, deliberately, giving her a chance to pull back despite her consent.
She didn’t. She couldn’t.
Her hands slid into his hair, drawing him closer, and the kiss deepened. Not desperate. Not rushed. Just two people who finally stopped pretending.
His fingers clutched her waist, pulling her against him, and her body responded instantly. They fit together like two pieces designed for each other from the start.
He broke the kiss just long enough to rest his forehead against hers.
