Page 67 of The Secrets We Built Together

I wrapped my legs around him, holding him closer, feeling every inch of him as he filled me completely. He buried his facein my neck, breathing hard, and it was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard.

"Blake," he whispered. "You feel so—"

His voice broke, and he pulled back to kiss me again, his mouth capturing mine as he started to move.

It was like nothing I'd ever felt before. Like everything I'd ever wanted but had been too afraid to ask for.

God, he moved like he already knew every part of me. Like this wasn't the first time we'd come together.

Every roll of his hips was slow and deep. My fingers curled against his back, my mouth finding his jaw, his neck, his lips. We moved together like we were trying to say all the things we'd been too scared to speak.

His hands framed my face like he didn't want to miss a single flicker of emotion. And I didn't want to look away. Not even for a second. Because when Xander looked at me like that, I didn't feel broken. I didn't feel like a charity case. I felt like someone who could be loved.

His thrusts grew deeper, more desperate, our breaths catching between kisses. My body tightened, pleasure building and cresting with a heat that stole the breath from my lungs.

"Xander—" I gasped, and his name on my lips was the final tether snapping loose.

He followed me over the edge with a groan, burying his face in my neck, every inch of him pressed tight to mine.

For a long, quiet moment, we just breathed.

We didn't speak.

We didn't need to.

Eventually, he tucked us under the blanket that had somehow ended up in a pile on the floor. His hand found mine, fingers interlacing like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And I let him hold it.

I let myself breathe him in and just feel it.

But somewhere in the quiet, as his breathing slowed and the room stilled, the weight of it settled on me.

He'd been gentle. Tender. Present in a way I hadn't let anyone be in years. He saw me. He wanted me—not in spite of the mess, but maybe even because of it.

So why the hell was I still trying to convince myself this didn't mean anything?

Why was I fighting so hard to keep someone like Xander Farrington at arm's length, when all I wanted right now was to fall asleep with his hand in mine and wake up to the sound of his laugh?

Why was I so scared of letting myself believe that this—he—could be real?

As if he could hear every thought crashing around inside me, Xander leaned in and pressed a slow, lingering kiss to my forehead.

"You're breathtaking, Blake. Everything about you is more than a man like me deserves." His fingers reverently traced down my side as he spoke, and I found myself leaning into his touch, desperate for every second.

I huffed out a quiet breath, but didn't argue.

He made me believe, even when I didn't want to.

A sudden cry from the baby monitor broke the perfect stillness between us. We both froze, waiting to see if Amelia would settle herself. When a second, more insistent wail followed, Xander dropped his forehead to mine with a rueful smile.

"Seems like someone needs our attention," he said, pressing a quick kiss to my lips before standing and pulling on his boxers.

I watched him, this man who was becoming something I couldn't define, as he walked toward Amelia's room. The sound of his gentle voice carrying through the monitor as he soothed her made something in my chest twist.

"Hey, little bug, you're okay," he murmured to her. "You're okay."

I slipped into his discarded t-shirt and padded down the hallway to join them. In the soft glow of the nightlight, Xander stood rocking Amelia gently, his bare chest against her tiny body as she settled against him. He looked up when I entered, and something unspoken passed between us.

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