“You shouldn’t have to say that. You didn’t plan for this, you aren’t on birth control yet, I should?—”
She bit her lip, cheeks pink. “I mean…I’m stressed, yeah.” A nervous laugh trembled out of her. “But I also…kind of liked it? I just didn’t expect that to happen. But…it’s hot. Knowing you’re so affected by me.”
God help me, the admission made something hot coil low in my stomach again—but I forced it down. Her safety mattered more than anything I wanted.
“I liked it too,” I said quietly. “But none of that matters if it worries you. Your comfort comes first. Always.”
Her eyes softened. She leaned forward and kissed me slow and grateful, like she understood exactly what I was trying to say without me fumbling through it.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
We cleaned up and returned to my room, where the staff had changed the sheets already—crisp, cool, and spotless in that way only people trained by the Butera household could manage.
Frankie slid under the covers first. I followed, curling around her instinctively, drawing her into the space beneath my chin like she belonged there.
It wasn’t something we’d ever talked about before, but it felt right after, well, after.
I smoothed my hand over her hip. “Are you sure you’re okay? The birth control—we shouldn’t have done anything before you were ready.”
“It’s okay,” she murmured. “Darla gave me some. And morning-after stuff. She said if anything happened, I’d be covered.” She hesitated, burying her face briefly in my chest. “I’ll take it in the morning.”
Relief washed through me—but so did something else. Something tender enough to hurt.
I rested my chin on her hair. “I didn’t want to scare you.”
“You didn’t.” She lifted her head to look at me. “You were…it was good. Almost sweet, really.”
Sweet. Nobody had ever said that about me before.
For a long moment, I just held her, letting the sound of her breathing settle the leftover adrenaline pulsing in my veins. Then, because I wanted to be honest with her, because lying felt impossible when she was in my arms, I added quietly:
“You don’t have to worry about… anything medical with me. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone. A very long time.”
She blinked up at me, surprised. “Really?”
“This life doesn’t leave much room for that. For trust.” My voice felt thick. “You’re the first person I’ve slept with in years.”
Her expression softened into something fragile and warm, something that made my chest tighten like I’d been sucker-punched. She touched my cheek gently, like she could ease something in me I hadn’t even realized had hardened.
“Jonathan,” she whispered, and kissed me again—slow, delicate, like gratitude and affection and something dangerously close to love.
I pulled her closer, but inside everything churned.
I couldn’t keep her. I couldn’t drag her into the bloody orbit of my life, couldn’t make her a permanent target just because I wanted her near me.
I shouldn’t even be letting myself want her this much at all.
But God, I would protect her. Even if that meant pushing her away later.
Even if it destroyed me.
I tucked her against me, one arm around her waist, the other stroking her hair until her breathing evened out, warm and soft against my chest.
Eventually my own eyes drifted shut, the weight of the night settling into something gentle.
If this was the only moment of peace I ever got with her, I’d hold onto it until morning.
We drifted off to sleep tangled together, her heart steady against mine and my promise to protect her echoing in the dark.
