Page 129 of Lace 'em Up

“Yup.”

She doesn’t go on, so I weave my hand into her hair, tilt her head back and kiss her throat. “You have five fingers, princess.”

She shudders. “A thumb isn’t technically a finger.”

I freeze.

Then laughter boils up and over, filling the space between us.

This woman is fucking funny.

And sweet, her cheeks reddening, her teeth nibbling at her bottom lip.

But there’s uncertainty drifting into her eyes, clinging to the edges of gorgeous emerald.

She doesn’t plan for the future, but she told me she loves me.

She’s lost so many things that were important to her, but she still found the courage to give me those words.

“Fuck, I love you.”

Her eyes widen, the uncertainty disappears, and I know that I never stood a chance at keeping my distance from this woman, know that all the distance I erected, the times I pushed her buttons, every moment I clung to the fact that I’m not my dad…

It was all bullshit.

Because I was scared of getting hurt.

Scared of loving someone and having it go bad.

And because of that…

I almost missed out on this.

If I hadn’t seen her on the side of the road that day, hadn’t pulled my bike to a stop, hadn’t seen the bruises…

I might never have had her like this, might have never seen this side of her.

Might have never had the chance to love her as she should be loved.

Because I’m going to love her so fucking good that she’ll never have any doubt where she stands in my heart.

“Even if I’m right about thumbs?” she asks.

Teases.

Because she’s here with me. Because, somehow, she can give that to me, even after everything she went through.

“I’ll show you thumbs,” I tease back, dragging my hand in, dipping my fingers (and said thumb) under the waistband of her pajamas, pressing my lips to hers and kissing her with every part of what I’m feeling—which is a whole fucking lot.

“This isn’t fake,” I growl when I pull back, holding her eyes, needing her to see the truth in mine, “and it never has been.”

“No,” she whispers. “It’s not.” A beat, her palm pressing to my cheek. “And it hasn’t been from the beginning.”

All the fear in me—not that there’s much of it left, Rose’s voice in my head fading to a faint whisper—settles and I cup her hip, turning us so that she’s cradled against my chest, so that we can watch the movie we’ve been ignoring.

She doesn’t protest, just scooches closer and relaxes against me, her contented sigh hitting my ears. Zeus, who was displaced during my shifting, jumps back onto the couch and settles in front of her.

And…this moment is small.

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