Page 73 of Everlasting Promises

My second is … where on earth am I?

I curl my fingers into hard muscle, and when I finally open my gritty eyes properly and follow the slab of chest upward, I’m greeted by one of the most handsome faces I’ve ever seen.

Relaxed in sleep but still cradling me like I’m the most precious thing on earth, he looks so beautiful. Thick, dark lashes rest on the apples of his cheeks, and his short beard has thickened overnight. His lips look as soft as I know them to be, and the urge to push up a little and press my mouth to his is overwhelming.

This man gave me a safe haven to fall apart last night. He didn’t judge. He didn’t give me false platitudes or promises. He listened and held my broken pieces together. And by doing that, he’s slowly putting each piece back into place. This morning, I’m strangely calm. My brain’s quiet, and my heart doesn’t ache quite as much as it did the night before.

I sink back into his warmth with a sigh, wishing I could stay here all day. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt a man’s arms around me—experienced contentment like this. Somehow I feel everything’s changed, but when I glance around the room, nothing’s changed at all. My muscles draw tight when my eyes land on my wedding photo.

Guilt is swift, slicing through my contentment with the sharpest blade, spilling my shame like blood on a battlefield.

What am I doing, snuggling into another man’s arms?

With urgency, I push against Ben’s chest, so I can climb to my feet, but his fingers tighten on my hip, and the arm holding me to him tenses, not allowing me to gain my freedom.

A soft rumble vibrates against me, and when I look up, sleepy gray eyes are watching me closely. Creases form between his dark brows as his eyes flick between mine, and Ishouldfeel trapped as he silently holds me in place. Instead, relief cascades through my body and my mind. I have no other option than to stay where I am. With quiet authority, he’s removing my guilt for finding solace in his arms by holding me steady.

I know, down to my core, if I wanted to move away, he would let me go, but somehow he knows I need this connection. He knows I need his embrace. I need the security he’s quietly giving me. I relax back into him and soak up this moment of peace.

His fingers loosen on my hip, and his other hand comes up to cup my face reverently. His soft lips press against the top of my head, and I sigh with a long exhale, releasing the tightness across my chest.

I draw in a long breath, taking Ben’s outdoorsy scent deep into my lungs. With my next exhale, I release a little of the guilt I feel for waking in another man’s arms. With each breath out, I release everything that’s been buried deep inside for too long, and with each breath in, I fill the empty spaces with Ben and the peace he’s giving me.

Tilting my head back, I gaze into his stormy gaze and see the questions written there.Are you okay? How can I help?

Yes, I’m okay. You already have. I answer without words.

A soft smile touches his lips, and his eyes sparkle in the morning light. His fingers trace my cheek, and his warm breath coats my mouth. It would be so easy to lean upward and show him my gratitude with a kiss … the problem is … I don’t want to kiss him out of gratitude.

I want to kiss him because I want to feel his mouth against mine again. I want to taste his lips … to feel his tongue stroke against mine. He’s awakened me in ways I never dreamed possible after losing Wyatt.

It should feel wrong to have these thoughts and feelings swirling through me for another man.

A man who isn’t my husband.

It should feel wrong to have Ben’s arms wrapped around me … to want his lips against mine.

But none of it does.

It feels right.

After all this time …

After all the pain and tears and agony.

It feels too good to ignore.

Wyatt wouldn’t want me to be alone. He’d want me to find love and happiness again. I know he would. And even though I’ve fought the idea until now, maybe it was because I was waiting for Ben. Before leaving the party yesterday, everyone made sure to tell me how much they liked him and how they thought Wyatt would like him, too.

I can’t ignore the way he makes me feel. His patience and understanding make him incredibly attractive, and it doesn’t hurt that the package he comes in is easy on the eyes. He’s not playing games and has been honest with me about what he’d like.

With the same patience he’s always shown, he watches me silently as I work through my thoughts and come to a decision. His gaze studies me like he can see every thought and doubt I have.

As I give myself permission to be in the moment—to do what my body aches to do—I tilt my head back and straighten in his arms, pushing upward. He must realize what I’m about to do because he sucks in a sharp breath, and when I glance back up at his eyes, the heat I see there gives me the courage to follow through.

I lick my lips, tasting Ben’s breath on my tongue. His eyes trace the movement and his pupils blow wide. Dipping his head slightly, he meets me halfway, and I swear, when we finally make contact, flames lick down my spine and heat my blood.

His fingers tighten on my hip once again, but for a completely different reason, as our mouths connect, touch, and taste.

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