Page 170 of Steamy Ever After

“It’s not as intimate.” He tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

She didn’t deny his words.

Was that it? Was she afraid of intimacy? He’d posed the same suspicion to Finn, but never thought much about how that might impact him and Erin moving forward.

Her voice was low, her stare on his chest as her fingers absentmindedly swept through the nap of the carpet. “You know how a fire feels so good when your’re cold?”

“Sure.”

“It feels good, but you can’t get too close or you get hurt. It’s a comfort until it burns you. And when it burns you, you carry the scars forever.”

Regret pinched in his gut. Was she saying she wanted to be close to him but couldn’t bear it? Was this her way of saying she was afraid of getting burned? It pained him to think she feared he would ever hurt her. “Erin, I’d never hurt you. I can barely step on a spider without feeling guilty.”

“I believe you, but…I’m messed up. I have trust issues wired well beyond my control, and I don’t know how to flip the switch.” Her hand stilled. “Maybe I can’t.”

It was a scary possibility. He hated when she talked about herself that way. “Is it something we can try to work through?”

She looked up at him with big eyes and he sensed some raw truth coming. “I want to be normal. I just don’t know how.”

Leaning forward, he kissed her head. “Me too.”

She smiled up at him and they shared a moment of relatable insecurities.

She returned her cheek to his lap. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He stroked her hair, leaning back and accepting the night wouldn’t be ending as he’d hoped. “I know you’re trying.” He continued to run his fingers through her golden strands.

“I like when you bring me food.”

He grinned. “Good, because I like feeding you.”

“No one’s ever brought me food before.”

He frowned, adding another mental tick to the list of nurturing practices Erin was raised without. “That’s basically the main way my family expresses love.”

She smiled, her fingers toying with the clasp of his belt buckle. “Well, my family never showed affection, so our food usually came from a can.”

It hurt to imagine anyone growing up in a house like that. His family argued and yelled, but they loved each other and always made sure that was clear. “I’d love to cook with you.”

Cooking in the kitchen wasn’t a chore in their house. It was an act of love and bonding. His parents probably connected more in that room than their bedroom. The kitchen was the heart of his home, and he loved how alive it always seemed.

“I’d love that, too. I only really know how to make one good thing.”

Her father’s crumb cake. That cake was damn delicious, but he’d never ask her to make it for him again. “We can make whatever you want. I know tons of recipes by heart.”

She smiled and shut her eyes. He sensed her calm returning and loved that they could find moments of stillness like this, sitting comfortably with each other in the silence.

He traced a finger over her eyebrow. The crease between her brows relaxed, her face so angelic. He gently moved her hair away from her cheeks, tracing her features and getting lost in her beauty. “You’re so gorgeous.”

“Things aren’t always what they seem.”

“Hey, don’t do that.”

“It’s true.”

“No, it’s not. I don’t like when you put yourself down. We all have room for improvement, but we shouldn’t grade ourselves on our weaknesses alone. You have a lot of strengths. Focus on them.”

“What are my strengths?”

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