Page 29 of Fighting Gravity

“There’s a library, but most of the books are in French,” he continued. “Later, I’ll make dinner.”

“Can I help? I’m learning to like cooking.”

“In that case, yes.”

She smiled. Tate had been serious when he’d urged her to come relax at the villa. She hadn’t thought that they’d fall straight into his bed, but she’d expected more tension, more searing looks. Still, she had to appreciate the safe space he was creating.

“What’s on the menu tonight?”

“Coq au vin avec haricots vert et Beaujolais.”

Her stomach fluttered as she fanned her face. “I forgot that you know how to speak French. I mean, obviously. You’re from there. But wow.”

Tate laughed, but she saw the desire simmering in his aqua eyes. “Weakness for French. Noted.”

He nodded his head toward the hallway and pushed off from the doorframe. Rosie followed him through several more long, straight, cold corridors. He paused in the hallway outside a room with a heavy, dark wood door.

“My room.”

“May I?”

Her skin tingled as he nodded slowly. He leaned against the doorway, collarbones on display from the V-neck of his shirt, as she slipped past his warm body and into his most private of spaces. Her heart hammered as she took in the chocolate-colored leather armchairs and shelves of books. The bed was massive, covered with a cream-colored comforter on which she could absolutely picture her naked body—and his. Then she spotted a book on his nightstand.Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.

“I thought you left the Harry Potter books at your cabin.”

“I ordered a second set.”

Warmth spread in her belly. Lord, she liked him. Too much.

“Now you know where I’ll be tonight if you need me.”

She wanted to make a joke, but she could already feel Tate’s tongue on her skin, his breath in her hair, his smooth muscles moving under her hands. Rosie had to close her eyes against the flood of promise. When she opened them, she could see Tate’s hands shaking. He was having as much of a reaction to her being in his bedroom as she was.

“Favorite spot?” she croaked out.

Tate’s jaw clenched—from effort to leave, not unhappiness, she guessed.

She followed him back into the hallway and around a corner. A floor-to-ceiling glass wall and an empty common space greeted her. Some of the tension drained as he pushed open a glass door to the outside and a real smile split his face. “My favorite room in the house.”

But the patio wasn’t a room, or in the house. He’d made himself an outdoor oasis. A small steel firepit already arranged with wood sat near two Adirondack chairs. An outdoor rug made the space homey, as did the string of lights. Pillows and blankets were folded on each chair. There was a full kitchen out there. Even a jar of wildflowers sat on the countertop. Soft music played, electronic of some kind.

Rosie’s gaze flicked from the homey touches to the man who’d made them. Was he lonely there? And could she help? At least for now? “Tate, I know you said this weekend was about giving me what I need. You know what that is, don’t you?” Her voice shook as she shared the words.

He dropped his hand from the back of the Adirondack chair and faced her. “I know what I want it to be.”

Goosebumps raced across her skin. She felt the gravel in his voice on her neck, though he was much too far away.

“Just for tonight, I want to forget that I don’t trust most people. That I’m not ready for someone like you. I want to forget that I was given a drug last week. Tonight, I want to forget that you and I work together in some capacity. I just want to forget about everything except how I feel when you look at me.”

The muscles in Tate’s chest pressed against his thin shirt with every breath. “How do you feel when I look at you?”

She approached him, diving deeper into those endless eyes with each step. She paused when her hand connected with the muscles above his heart.

“Like the world starts and stops with me.”

His breath was truly on her neck now, his hands gripping her hips. She stretched her head back as his lips hovered, not quite touching. She buried her hands in his hair and trembled as she waited.

“For me, the world does start and stop with you. I stoppedwonderingas soon as you walked into the hangar, Rosie Flynn. I saw you, and I just knew. From that moment, you have been my world.” Finally, his lips connected with the hollow of her throat. Rosie sighed happily, even as her heart struggled against the weight of his words. “And if you like how you feel when I look at you, wait until I start touching you.”

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