Drew stood there for a moment, just watching her sleep.
“Drew.” I kept my voice low. I’d learned that Rory had a tendency to sleep hard once she was out, but I didn’t want to risk it.
He turned toward me, and even though his shoulders still held some of the tension from the earlier conflict with his dad, his gaze was open and warm when he looked at me.
“Come here,” I whispered.
He lay down on his bed and positioned us so he was spooning me, our legs twined together and his arm slipping under my shirt to hold me tight against him. He nuzzled against my neck and let out a sigh.
“Fuck, I needed this. Just to hold you.”
I felt some of the tension leave his body as he settled against me, but my heart was still racing. I couldn’t let another moment pass without addressing what had happened downstairs.
“Drew?” I whispered, my fingers finding his where they rested against my rib cage.
“Hmm?”
I took a breath, gathering my courage. “Did you mean it?”
His arm tightened around me immediately, his body going still behind mine. The silence stretched between us for a heartbeat, and I could feel his breath warm against my neck.
“You mean when I said I love you,” he said quietly. It wasn’t a question.
“Yeah.”
His voice was steady and sure. “Every word, Harper. I meant every fucking word.”
I needed to see his face. Carefully, I turned in his arms until we were facing each other in the dim light filtering in from the hallway. His eyes, dark and intense, found mine immediately.
“I love you too,” I whispered. “But it also scares me. I’ve never felt like this before, and I don’t want to get hurt.”
He cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing gently across my skin. “I’ve got you. I would rip my own heart out before I hurt you, Harper.”
The conviction in his voice shattered the last of my defenses. I surged forward, capturing his mouth with mine. It wasn’t a gentle kiss. It was desperate—a collision of lips and tongue and pent-up emotion. I poured any fear I had into it, begging for his words to be true.
He groaned into my mouth, his hand sliding into my hair to hold me exactly where he wanted me. His other arm banded around my waist, crushing me against the hard planes of his body until I could feel the frantic beat of his heart against my own ribs.
When we finally broke apart, gasping for air, his forehead rested against mine. “Say it again,” he demanded, his voice rough with need. “Please.”
“I love you,” I breathed, the words tasting like freedom and terror on my tongue. “I love you, Drew.”
A shudder ran through him, and he kissed me again, slower this time, deeper. His tongue explored my mouth as if memorizing the taste of my confession. His hands slid under my shirt, palms hot against my skin as they traveled up my back. He broke the kiss only long enough to yank the fabric over my head, tossing it aside. His gaze raked over my bare skin, the look in his eyes so fiercely possessive it stole my breath.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his calloused fingertipstracing the curve of my shoulder, down my arm, then back up to brush the swell of my breast above my bra. “So fucking beautiful.” He unhooked the clasp easily, the material falling away. His breath hitched as he looked at me, his eyes darkening with pure, unadulterated hunger. “Christ, Harper.” His thumb grazed my nipple, and I arched into his touch with a gasp. “You’re like every fantasy I’ve ever had brought to life.”
He shifted, kneeling on the bed, and his hands went to the button of my jeans. Our eyes locked as he slowly slid the zipper down. The intensity of his gaze was almost unbearable, stripping me bare far more effectively than any removal of clothing could.
I’d never felt so vulnerable, yet never so certain I was safe.Hewould keep me safe.
He peeled the denim down my legs, taking my panties with them in one smooth motion. Cool air kissed my skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his stare as he drank me in.
“Perfect,” he breathed, reverence thick in his voice. “Every inch of you.” His lips brushed just below my navel, warm and soft, before trailing lower. My hips arched instinctively, reaching for more, only for his hand to press firmly against my stomach, holding me still. “Look at me, Harper.”
I forced my eyes open—I hadn’t even realized I’d closed them. His hazel gaze held mine, unwavering, as his fingers traced a slow, sensual path down my stomach, through the trimmed curls at the apex of my thighs. My breath caught in my throat, and anticipation coiled tight in my belly. He didn’t look away, not for a second, as his fingers found my wet heat.
“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound vibrating against myskin. “Always so fucking wet for me.” His gaze pinned me as surely as his body could have. His index finger slid through my slick folds, gathering moisture and circling my entrance without pushing in.
He was such a tease sometimes.
