Page 103 of Westin

I let him take me by the arm and pull me near. For the first time, I’m in a kitchen where a man’s touch doesn’t mean something bad.

God, it feels so good.

He kisses me, and then he brushes my hair back, his eyes lingering on my face.

“What?” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “Nothing. You just look pretty.”

My mind goes back to his cupboard of guns and sex toys. Diane Quinn—that’s what he put on that collar. He really does mean to marry me.

“Want some coffee?” I whisper.

He nods. I make coffee, and he takes his coat off and feeds Billie. He sits at the head of the kitchen table, knees spread, and watches me cook. I find I don’t mind cooking for just us. It’s cozy.

I set a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast before him. Then, I sit down with my own plate, even though it feels so strange to eat at the main table instead of my room or the back porch.

He takes a sip of coffee. I watch him steadily.

“It’s good,” he says. “But everything you make is good.”

I smile, and it feels so natural, like when he used to visit me at Carter Farms. We eat in silence, just the gas fireplace burning in the living room. Billie lays down at my feet and sighs.

There’s a lump in my throat, the good kind.

He sets his plate aside. “What do you like?”

I falter, unsure what he means.

“You like books, flowers,” he says. “You like being outside, but out of those, all I can get for you is books. What else do you like?”

I stare at him. “I don’t know.”

He puts his hand on his thigh. “Come here, Diane.”

The way he says it—it’s like warm sunshine and whiskey. I go like I’m being drawn by a magnet. He pulls me into his lap and tucks a bit of hair behind my ear.

“Just pick something. Any little thing you like,” he says.

I wrack my brain. “In the general store, they have a row of candy on the cash register. I used to get a piece every time I did the shopping for Nana.”

His lids flicker. “The general store on main?”

I nod. He clears his throat, like that means something. “What kind?”

I consider it. “I like the Lemon Chews.”

His throat bobs. He keeps looking at me like he can’t believe I’m here. It’s blinding, being at the center of his attention.

“What do you like, Mr. Quinn?” I ask.

The corner of his mouth jerks up. “You, mostly.”

I can’t bite back my smile. His hand goes around the back of my neck, and he pulls me in, kissing me hard, the way he used to. This time, it’s so sweet because I know he doesn’t have to leave before the end of the day.

I get him all to myself.

Neither of us feel like talking. Instead, he kisses me until I’m hot under my flannel. His hands are gentle on my waist and neck. His mouth starts out soft, but then it gets harder until I feel his need in every touch.

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