Page 58 of Tattered Edges

“Sawyer?” Rory called patiently.

“Hmm?”

“You’rewearingyour coat now.”

“Oh,” I breathed, looking down at myself. “Right. I am. Okay.”

“Come on,” he insisted, handing me my purse before reaching for my bag. “Let’s get out of here.”

It felt a little futile, but I locked up behind us as we went. When we stepped into Rory’s place, I felt better almost instantly. It was cozy, warm, tidy and familiar. He had a fire going, and it reminded me how my scream had pulled him away from what was likely the beginning of his downtime after work.

“I know this is not how you planned your night. I’m sorry to have pulled you away from your fire. Were you reading anything?”

“No. I’d only just started it before I stepped out to take down the rubbish. I was going to make myself a nightcap. Still might. Would you like a drink?”

My hands had stopped shaking, but a drink to calm my nerves sounded more than a little appealing.

“I’d love one, actually.”

“Very well,” he said, setting my bag behind the couch. “Make yourself comfortable.”

As he headed to the kitchen, I finally slipped out of my coat, discarding it over the arm of his loveseat. I then removed my shoes and sat in the corner of his couch, curling my legs up beside me and balling the sleeves of my sweater in my hands as I admired the crackling fire.

It was hard to believe, not two hours earlier, I was out with a friend, enjoying a fun night. Now, even though I didn’t want to, I couldn’t stop thinking about the moment I realized I wasn’t alone in my home. It was the unsolved mystery behindwhyanyone would want to ransack my place that troubled me the most.

I reasoned that if I could answer that one question, maybe I could prevent such a thing from happening again in the future. But without the answers, I worried I’d have to constantly be looking over my shoulder for a villain I couldn’t positively identify.

I was pulled from my thoughts when Rory entered the room—a dirty martini in one hand, and two fingers of scotch in his other. He placed both drinks on his coffee table before occupying the seat next to mine.

All at once, rather than a face hidden behind a mask, I was wholly captivated by the man who’d raced to my rescue. I replayed his gentlegood girlfrom earlier, and a shiver inadvertently raced down my spine.

“Are you warm enough?” he asked, nodding down at my hands.

I glanced at my fists, covered by my sweater, and then met his eyes.

It was a simple question, and not at all an intimate one—but the fact that he’d asked was more than I could handle.

Every time I needed him, he was there. Even sometimes before I asked.

I was tired of thanking him by way of his stomach. I was tired of holding myself back. I was tired of pretending. So, I ignored his question and decided to pose one of my own—only, mine didn’t require words.

Not exactly.

I wet my lips as I shifted in my seat, then reached for his face with both of my hands. His beard tickling my palms, I held him still as I pressed my mouth against his.

His reply came instantly.

My stomach did a summersault as he parted his lips so he might taste mine with a subtle flick of his tongue.

A soft hum of excitement sounded from the back of my throat as I opened up for him, and in response, he tilted his head and deepened the kiss further.

This.Thiswas better than I imagined it could be.

I moved my hands so I could sink my fingers into his hair, and it was perfect.

Silky, and soft, andperfect.

Then one of his hands was at my waist, pulling me closer. I gasped, breathing in his exhale as he took hold of the side of my neck, wordlessly expressing his desire for more.

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