Page 81 of Win My Heart

“I didn’t know you had a key,” I mutter, closing out of my design software.

“Dex gave me one when I moved in. I don’t know why. How many keys are there?”

I chuckle. “At least ten floating around.”

“You here by yourself?” he asks. He sits in Simon’s chair next to mine.

I look around and snort. “Clearly.”

“I thought you agreed you wouldn’t go anywhere alone.” His tone is more accusatory than necessary.

“Wade, I’m a grown woman,” I snap at him. “I can come here by myself. I can be in my apartment by myself. I don’t always need a babysitter.”

“You need to stay proactive. On the defense. Until that asshole is caught, you can’t let down your guard. “

I grumble. This is my life now, apparently. He reaches out and snags my hands. He pulls me gently to him, the chair gliding toward him effortlessly.

“Bernadette. I know you’re frustrated, but I care about you too much to let something happen to you. So if that means I have to send in reinforcements to hang with you or remind you to be safe and stay aware, I will. You can be mad and frustrated, but I’ll take that Bernadette over one that is harmed.”

His explanation is beautiful, but it doesn’t change the fact that I feel like a caged animal at the zoo. “I understand, and I do appreciate it, but I feel smothered.”

His eyes brim with understanding but vulnerability. His words come out hoarse and pleading. “He won’t make a move if you’re smothered.”

He leans in so our foreheads press together. “I know,” I whisper.

“I’ll back off a little, but I won’t dictate the rest of them to do so. But please put up with me until this is all over.”

“Okay,” I offer him.

He lifts my chin with a finger and steals a sweet kiss. Since our big fight, we haven’t been very intimate. Hugs, snuggles, sweet kisses, but nothing past that. He’s being respectful and I appreciate it. Until we have the talk about what we are and where we’re going, I don’t feel like we should be having sex. But as I breathe him in, his concern for me clear, I want him. Flashbacks to our night in the tent hit me hard.

“What are you thinking about?” He pulls back slightly.

I grin. “Your tent.”

His low chuckle does things to me, and I shift in my seat. “Oh yeah? It’s a good tent. A lucky tent, if you ask me.”

“I miss you,” I whisper.

“I’m right here”—I close my eyes at his words—“and I’m not going anywhere.” He kisses me again, and this time, it’s a little less sweet with a little more heat. His hand cups my cheek, and my arms wrap around his neck. He gulps in a breath, I whimper.

“Come over for dinner.” He grins.

Confused, I say, “Uh…”

“I’m making my mom’s spaghetti.” His brows waggle up and down. His mom’s spaghetti is amazing. I’ve gone home with Dex for family dinners enough over the years that I know how stellar it is. But I’m getting distracted.

“One problem. You’ve got roommates.”

He’s never asked me to come to his place.

“I don’t care.” His jaw sets, as if there’s no room for argument. Then he adds, “The guys can find their own dinner. You’re getting spaghetti. I know you love it. My mom told me you always tell her how much you love it.”

“You talked to your mom about me?” I’m stunned. I love Mrs. Roberts, but I can’t help but wonder what she would think of me and her son together.

“Yeah. I told her what’s going on.” He kisses the tip of my nose.

“Does she know about us?” I hesitate.

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