Page 52 of Glass Rose
“You already had him.”
“That was only for convenience. And I do regret it.”
His eyes narrow, searching my face for lies. “Then what is this?”
“I don’t know. But it’s not casual or just convenient. At least not for me.”
“I can hear when you’re lying.”
“Then you know I’m telling the truth.”
His hand slides up to cup my face, thumb tracing my lower lip. “For me, neither.”
I lean in, capturing his lips with mine in a slow, deep kiss. His surprise melts into response, his hand settling at the back of my neck. When I pull away, his eyes remain closed for a beat longer than necessary.
I whisper against his mouth, “Are we good?”
“I’m sorry for—” His eyes flutter open.
I press my finger against his lips. “Don’t. But I want us to talk about stuff like this. Not just…”
“Talking isn’t exactly my strong suit.”
“Really? Hadn’t noticed.” I nestle into the crook of his neck, his arm automatically wrapping around me. “We should sleep.”
“Hmm.” His fingers trace lazy patterns on my skin, raising goosebumps despite the warmth of his body.
“You’re more,” I say. “More than convenience. More than I deserve.”
His body relaxes incrementally. “Go to sleep.”
“Will you still be here in the morning?”
There’s a pause, then, “Get some rest.”
Not an answer. One step after another. We have all the time now.
I’ve had my share of hookups. Clinical, transactional exchanges of pleasure that left me feeling emptier afterward. Like with Alex. God, Alex. That mistake taught me what sex without connection really feels like: hollow satisfaction followed by awkward morning-afters and carefully maintained professional distance.
But this?
This feeling… It’s different.
Gavin’s fingers twitch against my skin, squeezing me to his body, and I wrap my arms around his neck.
It’s not just the physical—though fuck, that was incredible. It’s the way his eyes track me across a room. The way he positions himself between me and potential threats without even thinking about it. The way his voice softens when we’re alone, revealing glimpses of the man beneath the scars.
I trace one across his collarbone.
His skin is a roadmap of suffering I can’t begin to comprehend. Yet beneath all that pain, there’s a resilience that leaves me in awe. The way he refuses to let Green’s torture define him. The way he still finds moments to smile, rare and precious, despite everything he’s endured.
What draws me to him isn’t just safety or protection—it’s witnessing someone who’s seen the darkest humanity has to offer and still chooses compassion. Still risks himself for others. Still lets himself feel something for me despite knowing attachment is dangerous in this world.
Maybe that’s what terrifies me most—not that I’m falling for him, but that I might actually deserve the way he looks at me. That despite my role in creating this nightmare, he sees something in me worth saving. Worth… loving?
Is this what it feels like?
His breath hitches slightly at my touch, then evens out again. I kiss his chest.
