Page 25 of The Heart We Guard
“I trusted you with my life. Not sure I can trust you with much more. I’m even eating your goddamn soup rather than demanding a steak.”
“We’ll take a look at your stitches in a couple of days. If I take them out and you’re brave, I’ll buy you a steak.”
“I promise I’ll let you.” Butcher threads a hand around the back of my head, running his fingers into my hair. His touch makes me feel like there are crossed wires in my body. Attraction rubbing up against arousal. “There isn’t much I wouldn’t promise you if you asked.”
I place my hand on his forearm, his skin warm to the touch. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in your promises.”
The air swirls between us. Warm. Evocative. Filled with promise. His fingers tighten in my hair; my heart rate increases.
“If I kissed you right now, Greer, would you let me?” he asks.
“Kiss me? But I’ll taste of soup.” Then, I shake my head in utter disbelief that this was my response.
Butcher chuckles. “The soup tastes good. You say yes, I’ll take my chances.”
“Yes.” I don’t know what makes me answer so quickly, so recklessly, beyond thought.
A part of me really wants to keep talking with him. To hear more about why he likes me. To just hear his story and get more connected.
But I also intellectually know that this kind of intimacy is…rare.
The world silences as his lips press gently to mine. I feel the whisper of his scruff against my chin as his tongue brushes against my lips.
I open my mouth and let him in. The things that tether me to a potential lover may not look the same as everyone else. But in this quiet moment, as the wind and rain lash the doors, I allow my body to ease into his.
I swirl around the idea of Butcher as a young man, unable to make his own choices for his own life.
Pulling away, I look him in the eye. “If you could have been anything in the world, Butcher, what do you wish you had become?”
He strokes a thumb down my cheek, and his pupils are wide with arousal. I know the biological signs. “Was that okay?” he asks, avoiding my question.
“Yes.”
“You think you might let me do that again?”
I nod.
“Good. I wish I’d been an architect, Greer. I’d love to design and build something instead of take a wrecking ball to things.”
And while the kiss was good, his answer and corresponding smile were better.
8
BUTCHER
Six days.
That’s my first thought when I wake up in Greer’s spare bedroom.
It took me six days to kiss the doc.
Six days to feel human.
Six days to wish she’d crept into my bed in the middle of the night and put some warmth back into my life.
Now, there’s a disconnect between what I need to do and where I want to be. Especially after how…soft…dinner felt. Maybe soft isn’t the right word. Comforting? Wholesome? Calm?
The perfect word escapes me to describe just how good I felt. After we’d watched a movie, holding hands like we were teenagers all over again, I did my best to walk her to her room. There in the hallway, I gave her another kiss that caused me to have dreams I have no business having.
