When I finish, he looks down at me with such tenderness I have to look away. It’s too much—too raw, too real.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice husky with emotion.
“Thank you,” I whisper, not just for this moment but for everything.
For carrying me through the rain.
For waiting when I needed space.
For seeing me as chipped rather than broken.
His eyes meet mine with an intensity that steals my breath. I drop my gaze for just a second, noting how hard he is right now. His erection isn’t something he’s trying to flaunt, but he’s not hiding it either. He sees where my attention has shifted, and a flush creeps up his neck.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice rough. “I can’t always control it. I promise there’s zero expectation.” He brings a warm hand to my cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly over my skin. “I would never hurt you, Sutton. Not in a million years.”
The deep sincerity in his eyes makes my chest ache, almostas if he wonders if I don’t believe him. “Don’t apologize,” I whisper, my gaze returning to his face. “You make me feel safe, Shepherd. Safer than I’ve ever felt.”
“Good. That’s what I like to hear. Come on,” he says gently. “Let’s get you warm and dry.”
Shepherd reaches past me to turn off the water, and the sudden quiet feels intimate in its own way. He steps out first, grabbing a large, fluffy towel and wrapping it around me before taking one for himself. His hands rub gently at my shoulders through the towel, warming me further, and he pats my skin dry with the softest touch. I catch my reflection in the steamy mirror. My face is flushed, eyes bright, hair slicked back. I look…different. Not quite myself, but maybe closer to who I could be. When he’s finished, he disappears briefly, changing into a pair of gym shorts, and then returns with a clean T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants for me.
“They’ll be huge on you,” he says apologetically, “but they’re dry.”
I slip into his clothes, the fabric swimming around my smaller frame. The shirt hangs to mid-thigh, the pants requiring several roll-ups at the waist and ankles. But they smell like him and that makes me feel safe.
“Thank you.”
“Of course.”
He leads me to his bedroom, a space that somehow feels exactly like him surrounded in warm wood tones and simple furnishings. Nothing flashy or excessive. The bed is enormous, with a solid headboard that looks handmade.
“Did you make this?” I ask, running my fingers along the smooth grain.
“Yeah,” he says, a hint of shyness in his voice.
I picture his strong hands carefully shaping this piece, and something warm unfurls in my chest. He pulls back thecovers, gesturing for me to climb in, but I hesitate, just for a moment.
This is what I want.
You’ve wanted this for a long time.
He’s not going to hurt me.
I trust him.
“I can sleep in the guest room,” he offers immediately, reading my hesitation. “Or the couch. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
“No,” I say, surprising myself with how quickly the word comes.
I want to be with you.
“Stay. Please.”
He nods, climbing in on the other side of the bed, careful to leave space between us. The mattress dips slightly as he settles, and I feel the warmth radiating from his body next to mine. For a moment, we lie there in silence, the only sound is our breathing gradually synchronizing in the darkness.
“Is this…are you okay?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Yes,” I assure him staring up at the ceiling. The rain continues to patter against the windows, creating a soothing rhythm that makes my eyelids heavy. I should be exhausted after everything that’s happened tonight, but there’s a strange energy humming through me, keeping sleep at bay.
