I bit my lip. “You really think so?”
“I know so.”
I looked at him, and whatever I’d been holding back cracked a little.
Beau reached out and pulled me into a hug, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and tucking me in close.
My cheek pressed to his chest, and I let myself breathe him in, let myself soften in his hold. His arms were strong, steady. He didn’t squeeze too tightly, just enough to remind me I wasn’t alone.
“You don’t have to prove anything to us,” Beau murmured against my hair, his voice low and steady, like the rumble of distant thunder. Comforting and grounding. “Just be yourself. That’s already more than enough.”
His words melted into me, sinking past the wall of nerves and self-doubt.
I breathed him in, warmth and cinnamon and something that was just him, and nodded against his chest, my fingers curling slightly in the hem of his shirt.
After a long, quiet moment where all I could hear was the steady beat of his heart and the soft rush of morning outside my window, I tipped my face up to look at him.
“Thanks,” I said. “I needed that.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he smiled. Not that polite kind of smile, but the kind that reached all the way in and touched something soft and private inside me.
He reached up, brushing a thumb along my cheekbone, his callused skin grazing mine.
“Anytime,” he said.
And then he kissed me. It wasn’t rushed or demanding, just warm and sweet and slow, like the morning sunlight spilling through my windows.
My lips parted under his, and I tasted coffee and sugar andhim, and my heart gave a helpless stutter.
His hands slid down to my waist, large and steady, pulling me closer in a way that sent heat darting up my spine.
I could feel his fingers splay against the curve of my hips, could feel the flex of his chest under my palms as I clutched at his shirt, needing to hold onto something solid.
Because that kiss? That kiss felt like falling and being caught at the same time. I let myself lean into him, feeling the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms.
My nerves didn’t disappear, but they dulled under the press of his mouth, softened by the way his lips lingered on mine like he didn’t want to let go.
When we finally broke apart, I stayed in the circle of his arms, catching my breath.
Beau rested his forehead against mine, his eyes still half-lidded, his voice rougher now and lower, with a hint of something that made my stomach flip.
“You’ve got this, Sean,” Beau said.
I swallowed hard. “I’ll do my best,” I promised.
“You always do.”
He said it like he meant it. The real me, the scared parts, the parts that doubted if I belonged, and didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. If anything, he held me tighter.
And something about that cracked me wide open. I leaned in and kissed him again, this time a little deeper, a little braver.
His hands flexed at my waist, and he let out a quiet groan against my mouth that made my whole body light up like a struck match.
The air between us pulsed with heat. Not frantic, not rushed, but steady. Hungry. Like we were both learning the shape of this thing we were building together.
When I finally pulled back, my cheeks flushed and my heart doing somersaults, Beau looked down at me like I’d hung the stars in his sky.
“Go get ’em, chef,” he said, his lips quirking.
