Reverence.
A bone-deep ache that had nothing to do with my cock and everything to do with the fact that she had given me this, had stood there naked and unashamed and offered herself like she trusted me not to break her.
Lust pushed at my ribs, hot and wild, begging me to close the distance. Tenderness pressed just as hard from the inside, slow and steady, whispering that if I touched her now, there would be no pretending this was just practice, no going back to clean lines and careful rules.
My cock throbbed so hard it bordered on painful. Every fear I had was still there, still hissing in the back of my mind, but it was drowned out by one loud, brutal truth: I wanted her so much it scared me.
She shifted her weight, bare toes curling briefly in the towel at her feet. Her chin lifted a fraction, like she was bracing for impact.
“This is not me just being kind,” she said quietly. “This is me wanting you. Like this. Now. Knowing exactly who you are and what you’ve been through and what might happen.” Her fingersflexed at her sides. “You can say no. I’ll survive the mortification. But don’t tell me I don’t want this.”
The reservoir in my chest cracked.
Hayes’s voice thundered in the background—I trust you—followed by every worst-case scenario my brain could conjure. Phantom pain flared low, a warning shot across my nerves. My pulse pounded in my ears.
She was standing there anyway. Choosing me anyway.
“Clara,” I said, and the sound of her name in that small room felt like something I should be on my knees for. I stepped closer, slow, giving myself time to back out and failing spectacularly at taking it. “You know if we do this, it doesn’t go back in the box, right? There’s no version where we pretend this is some clinical experiment in my sex life. I am not that guy.”
“I am very clear on what kind of guy you are,” she said, a flicker of heat flashing in her eyes. “That’s why I asked you.”
I stopped in front of her, close enough now that I could feel the warmth coming off her skin, close enough that one more step would put my chest within reach of her hands.
“This is probably,” I said slowly, “the worst idea I have ever had.”
Her mouth curved, soft and sure. “Mine too.”
My quiet laugh came out hoarse. I let my gaze drag over her one more time, because there was no universe where I was not going to burn this into my memory. Every line, every curve, every inch of her—brave enough to stand there and sayI want youwhen I had done absolutely nothing to deserve that kind of gift.
My fear was still here. My loyalty to Hayes was still here. The noise in my head was still here.
The desire was louder.
I lifted my hand, fingers trembling just slightly, and touched a strand of damp hair where it clung to her shoulder, letting it slide over my knuckles.
“Okay,” I said, the word landing in my gut like a promise. “Yes.”
Her breath caught.
“Yes?” she whispered.
“Yes to you,” I clarified, because if we were going to do this, she deserved every ounce of clarity I had. “Yes to this. Yes to ... lessons. Yes to going as slow as I need to and probably faster than I should. Yes to fucking up and laughing about it instead of going back into my cave and pretending I’m already dead.”
Relief and heat flashed across her face so fast it nearly knocked me over.
“Okay,” she said, voice shaking just a little. “Okay.”
I swallowed, my thumb brushing the damp skin at her shoulder, glasses sliding down my nose as I looked at her like she was the first good decision I’d made in too damn long.
“Then teach me, Duchess,” I murmured. “Show me where we start.”
“Okay,” Clara said slowly, like she was lining something up in her mind. “Then we need rules.”
I huffed out a laugh. “That sounds ominous as hell.”
Her mouth curved, nervous and determined. I still couldn’t believe how confident she was, standing naked in front of me.
“Ground rules,” she corrected. “So you don’t bolt. So I don’t cry. So nobody gets murdered at Thanksgiving.”
