“So your plan was to start a race you couldn’t finish?”
Her breathing’s uneven now, lips parted as her gaze flickers to my mouth. “Just…keeping you on your toes.”
I lean in, my lips ghosting over hers, our breath mingling. “Sunshine, you have no idea what you just started.”
Without another word, I sweep her into my arms, cradling her against me as I carry her down the hall. Her arms loop around my neck, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of my neck as I nudge open the door to my bedroom with my foot, not willing to let her go for even a second.
And then we’re falling into the room, onto the bed, and into each other, a mess of tangled limbs and breathless laughter. For a moment, neither of us moves, hearts racing, chests rising and falling in sync. Bree’s hair is a wild halo around her, her cheeksflushed, her smile nothing short of devastating. She’s never looked more beautiful.
I inch closer, slow enough that she can feel every fraction of space between us disappear. Her breath catches, her body tensing ever so slightly. It’s barely noticeable, just the faintest shift, but it’s enough.
And then I see it.
Fear.
It flickers in the depths of her gaze, raw and unguarded. And it fucking guts me.
Her hand drifts toward mine, slow and cautious, like she’s testing the waters, uncertain whether she’s ready to take the leap. I stay still, letting her make the decision.
I can almost hear the internal battle that’s holding her back. And when her fingers finally brush against mine, a small breath of relief escapes her as her body relaxes, her shoulders releasing the tension that’s there.
My voice is a quiet murmur. “I’m right here.”
They’re more than just words. They’re a promise I know she hears. I’m not going anywhere. Not until she knows, deep in her bones, that she’s safe with me.
Our eyes lock, and in that instant, I think she sees it, too. The promise, the silent vow I’m offering. That I’ll take care of her heart, of her body, of everything she’s willing to trust me with.
She breathes me in, her lips brushing tentatively against mine, soft and gentle. Trusting. It’s not just a kiss. It’s a quiet surrender, like she’s letting herself believe good things are still possible.
eleven
BREE
Damn it.I’m being awkward. This was supposed to befun. I thought I could go with the flow and be chill and sexy and all the things women in movies seem to pull off without blinking. Except the truth is… I’m rattled. It’s been a while since I’ve let anyone this close, and now that I’m here, wrapped in him, I’m completely out of my depth.
The last time I felt anything remotely like this was with Dillon. And even that feels like a different lifetime. He’s the only one I’ve ever actually been…intimate with. And now I’m here, half tangled in sheets and unexpected nerves, trying to remember how to be with someone new without letting my past write the script.
My heart is hammering, my breaths a little too shallow. I want to play it cool and act like I’ve got this, but every time I look at Callan, the knot in my stomach tightens.
And yet, despite all the nervousness bubbling up inside me, Callan’s just…being Callan. Calm, cool, and collected with that easygoing confidence of his. He’s lying here, still fully clothed, holding me in a way that makes everything around us fade into the background. All I can focus on is the steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his touch, and the way his presence seems to anchor me, making everything else…less important.
“Are you okay?” His voice is low, almost a whisper, like a stone dropping into still water and sending ripples through everything I’ve been trying to hold together. There’s no pressure in it, no urgency. Just quiet concern threaded through every syllable like he genuinelywantsto know—not because he’s supposed to ask, but because he cares.
I look up, and his eyes meet mine with an intensity that burns straight through me. Not heat. Not lust. Just this anchoring light that makes me want to crumble and lean in at the same time. His hand rests lightly on my back, fingers barely touching like he knows I’m fragile as he lets me set the pace. And maybe I am fragile. Maybe I’m one deep breath away from falling apart. The scariest part?
I don’t hate the way it feels to have someone there to catch me.
I nod, because the words won’t come. They’re stuck somewhere between my ribs and my throat, tangled up in all the things I’ve never let myself say out loud. I want to tell him that I’m scared. That I haven’t let anyone this close in a long time. That this moment is so safe, it almost hurts.
And it’s him.
This reckless, wild, maddening man with his rough hands and easy smile. The one who rides too fast and lives too loud. The one I always thought was too much. And yet, here he is. Quiet and steady.
Who knew Callan had a soft touch and the patience of a saint?
Right now, I’m borrowing courage from the way he looks at me. From the way his touch tells me I don’t have to be anythingmore than exactly what I am. And for the first time in a long time, that feels like enough.
Which is probably why my mouth blurts, “I’m sorry. This isn’t what you signed up for.”
