Shepherd steps between my knees, his broad chest pressing against me as his mouth reclaims mine. His kiss is careful and controlled, but there’s heat beneath it, like a banked fire waiting for permission to blaze. His hands slide up my sides, leaving trails of warmth in their wake, one coming to rest at the nape ofmy neck while the other cradles my jaw with a tenderness that makes my heart stutter.
“Sutton,” he whispers against my lips, my name sounding like a prayer in his mouth.
I shouldn’t want this.
I shouldn’t want him, but I do.
I so desperately do.
I wrap my legs around his waist, drawing him closer, needing to feel more of him against me. My injured hand throbs faintly, but I barely register the pain through the haze of desire clouding my mind. All I can focus on is Shepherd; his scent, his taste, and the gentle way he holds me.
It’s too much, Sutton.
Don’t take it too far.
Stay in control.
I break away, just enough to breathe, my forehead resting against his. His breath fans across my face, warm and steady.
“That definitely meant something,” he whispers, his voice rough around the edges.
I laugh softly, my eyes still closed, savoring the moment before reality crashes back in. “Yeah.” When I open my eyes, he’s watching me with such tenderness it almost hurts. No one has ever looked at me like that. Like I’m something precious instead of something broken. Like I matter beyond what I can do or provide.
His thumb traces a gentle path along my jawline, and I find myself leaning into his touch like a cat seeking warmth. “You know you’re safe here, right?” he asks quietly. “With me?”
The question hits me in a tender spot I didn’t even know I had.
Safe.
When was the last time I felt truly safe?
I can’t remember.
“I’m starting to believe that,” I admit.
He smiles, and it transforms his entire face. “Good.”
“Shepherd, I…” My stomach flutters as I try to put my feelings into words. I don’t want to say something stupid and I don’t want him to think I’m pushing him away after I just kissed him again.
“It’s okay.” He tips my chin with his finger. “Whatever it is, I’m here.”
“I just…I don’t know if I’m ready for…fast.”
He smooths a few strands of my hair back from my forehead. “Am I pushing you too fast now?”
My brows pinch and I shake my head. “No, not at all. You’re…you…you’re weirdly respectful.”
He chuckles lightly. “I’ll take weird. Were you hoping for something else?”
“No. It’s just…not what I’m used to…I guess.”
He studies my face with an intensity that makes me want to look away, but I don’t. “What are you used to?”
I swallow hard, the weight of past relationships pressing down on me. “Men who expect more. Men who take and never give. Men who…” I trail off, unable to finish the thought.
Men who think no equals yes.
Men who say I’m just a waitress…
