Page 54 of Silent Is The Heart

Arching his brows, he eyes me suspiciously. “Well, that boosted my ego. I’m supposed to be the younger one here.”

Rolling my eyes, I give him a playful nudge. “It’s not a contest. You work your ass off. Go on. You’ll love it. I promise.”

“Do I have to light a bunch of candles and play Joni Mitchell?” he calls even as he obliges and walks into my room.

“Go!” I laugh. “You stink!”

Heading to the kitchen, still chuckling, I shake my head at myself. Maybe I overanalyze things. I know it’s wise to question things in life. You can’t walk through it blindly without doubt, but you can’t have so many that you let them ruin something truly good.

Scrubbing the dishes, I stop mid-swipe, the sponge dripping in my hand.Something truly good.That defines perfectly what Easton is to me. Maybe in the grand scheme of things, we’re unconventional. I work in an office. He’s covered in tattoos. I’m eight years older and was once assigned to a professional guidance position over him. I’m afraid of everything. He’s afraid of nothing. Well, unless you count him being afraid to let me know he had a crush on me.

The sponge falls from my hand into the sink, splattering water droplets in the air.

I didn’t see it then. Why would I have seen it now?

Is he still afraid of us? Maybe that’s why he looks at me like I’ll disappear. He has to know that I’m right where I want to be. I thought I’d made it terribly obvious.

I feel warm with embarrassment right now, just thinking about how smitten I feel all the time. Have I been holding back, though? Does he need more from me? If so, I am willing and able to give it. Inhaling a deep breath, I dry my hands and start toward my room, determined. Brave. Open.

What I find when I pass through the doorway of the bathroom is a vision—and not just the sensual kind. It’s a visionof my future. The man leaning his head back on the tub, eyes closed, inked forearms draped over the sides, is the man I want in every tomorrow for eternity.

It’s like a curtain being drawn open, revealing the answer to a mystery. I’m simultaneously grateful for the revelation and feel a fool for all the choices I made prior to this moment in my life. When Jason, with all his initial charm and promises, asked me to marry him and move to Seattle, I remember thinking, why would anyone say no?

Anyone…

How am I just now realizing that I asked myself the wrong question? It didn’t matter whatanyonewould have done. I saidyesbecause I couldn’t find a reason to sayno.

Easton’s eyes peel open and find me, a lazy smile turning up a corner of his mouth. “I scrubbed. I promise.”

I tug my sweatshirt over my head because touching him is an urgent necessity. I shuck the rest of my clothes because as I stare at him, I know without a doubt I could never find a reason to saynoto having him in my life. Everything about him is a resoundingyesfor me.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” I murmur, stepping into the tub.

“Ah, this was a setup. I knew it,” he deadpans, even as he sits up to make room for me. “You just needed someone to wash your back.”

Sliding my feet next to his hips as I extend my legs what little I can, I feel home when the tops of his shins slip underneath my thighs. I once morosely mused that I could live in here. Now, it’s absolutely true. I felt slightly less lost when I returned to Maine, but I’m truly home when I’m with him.

I stare, just appreciating him until his brows quirk. Even that is endearing. How can someone so beautiful not be used to being looked at?

“You’re too far away to wash my back.”

Pulling myself forward, the water makes his skin glide like oil against mine as I rise. His lips are cool, but the rest of him is warm and inviting beneath the surface as I finagle my feet underneath his legs. The water level rises when I settle myself onto his lap, lying on him like a human blanket. I can’t hold back anything anymore now that I’ve seen my heart’s secret. Maybe I was waiting for permission from myself to fall in love again.

Like the other half of my soul, so in tune with my emotions, he reaches up, cupping my jaw. The searching look he gives me, the expression of awareness over my need to be one with him right now, is all the proof I need that my heart is giving its consent to be given away. A younger version of me might have thought, who could say no to that look?

The version of me today says no one else will have the chance. It’s mine. Only mine.

Rocking my hips into his, our cocks glide against each other between our stomachs. I answer his inquiring gaze with a kiss meant to ease all his worries.

“Do you have any idea how happy you make me?” I whisper, trailing a hand possessively down his side. Not groping; just claiming. I want him to know that he’s mine, every inch of him.

“How happy?”

The vulnerability in his expression tells me my assumption earlier was right. I want to wipe it from the pages of history. Cupping his face, I press a gentle kiss to his lips and gaze into those mesmerizing eyes.

“A level of happiness that might terrify some people.” Another kiss. Another picture of that heartbreaking look. “But I’m not terrified,” I assure him.

“No?” he croaks, wetting his lips.

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