Page 160 of Wilde and Deadly

He stared down at her. “Feels like it is.”

She stepped closer, until there was nothing between them but the press of her body and the steady thrum of his heartbeat against her own. Her fingers traced the edges of his jaw before sliding down his arms, linking their hands together. “You’re not perfect, Davey. You’re human. You make mistakes. But you’re also the most loyal, protective person I’ve ever met. Cade knows that. He just needs time.”

He searched her face, looking for cracks, for hesitation. But she believed in him. Even now. Even after everything. The weight of that belief— of her love— settled deep in his chest. Humbling. Terrifying.

His voice was quiet when he asked, “What did I do to deserve you?”

Rowan’s lips curved, soft and knowing. “Probably something fantastic in a past life. Maybe you saved the world.”

Despite himself, he chuckled, the sound low and rough, but God, he felt like she was the world. And maybe he hadn’t saved it before, but he’d spend the rest of his life trying to keep her safe, keep her standing, keep her here.

The tension in his chest loosened, just a little, as he took a slow, steadying breath.

Rowan’s gaze softened, her hazel eyes catching the sunrise, making them glow with something almost too bright, too good, too much. “For real, though, I’ll tell you exactly what you did,” she murmured, her fingers brushing over his like an anchor. “You’ve fought for me, Davey. Even when I made it impossible.”

His throat burned. “I’ll fight for you forever.”

Her eyebrows lifted, amusement flickering in her eyes. “Forever, huh?”

“Yeah.” His voice was rough, steady, an oath, a promise, a truth written into his damn bones. “I’m serious, Ro. If I have to spend the rest of my life proving how much you mean to me, I’ll do it. Every damn day.”

Her lips parted, something unreadable, raw, and beautiful passing through her expression—like maybe she felt the weight of his words settle somewhere deep.

Davey couldn’t resist the invitation of her parted lips. He bent his head, closing the space between them, his lips brushing over hers—soft at first, almost reverent. But when she sighed against him, he deepened it, one hand sliding to cup the back of her neck, the other gripping her waist like he needed to anchor himself to her, to this moment. To something real.

She melted into him, her fingers curling into his shirt, holding him like she wasn’t planning to let go. And, Jesus, he never wanted her to. He kissed her slow and steady, pouring everything into it—his relief, his devotion, the aching gratitude that she was here, safe, his.

Forever.

Then she made a small sound—a sweet, soft hum in the back of her throat—and it sent heat curling low in his gut. His mind flickered back to yesterday, to the feel of his back against his desk, her knees clamped around his hips as she rode him, the way she moaned as she sank onto him. He was suddenly very aware of how close they were, of how easy it would be to take her downstairs, lock the office door, and finish what they started.

But just as he started to pull her closer, Rowan let out a quiet laugh and pulled back, pressing a single finger against his lips. “Hold that thought.”

Davey blinked through the haze of lust, his brain taking a moment to catch up to the sudden change. “What?”

“There’s someone you need to meet first.” The spark of mischief returned to her eyes, but this time, it didn’t quite hide the softness beneath it. “My parents are downstairs, and my dad has questions.Lotsof questions.”

Davey’s stomach dropped. “Your dad.”

“Yep.” She patted his chest, her grin widening. “And my mom. Don’t worry— they’re mostly harmless. Dad’s only brought, like, three knives.”

“Not funny,” he muttered.

“Come on.” Rowan squeezed his hand reassuringly as she tugged him toward the door. “You’ll survive. Probably.”

forty

Davey followedRowan down the sleek staircase from the rooftop, the sound of her boots a steady rhythm against the polished steel steps. Each step felt heavier than the last as the weight of what lay ahead settled on his chest. Meeting Rowan’s father wasn’t something he’d prepared for—especially not when that father was Gabe Bristow, a man who could make Navy SEALs quake in their boots with a single glare.

“Relax,” Rowan said over her shoulder, her tone light but laced with amusement. “He doesn’t bite.”

Davey let out a dry chuckle. “That’s not exactly comforting, considering I’ve heard what he does do.”

She paused at the bottom of the stairs, turning to face him with a smirk that was both infuriating and endearing. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t say anything stupid.”

“Great advice,” he deadpanned. “Anything else? Like how to dodge flying knives?”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Oh, he doesn’t throw knives. He just uses them to… make a point. Usually in soft, sensitive parts of the anatomy.”

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