Page 114 of Big Bad Wolfe

“Mmm.” She leaned against his chest. “It’s wonderful.”

He proceeded to tend to every luscious inch of her … and then take her slowly and thoroughly against the shower wall.

Sitting on the shower floor afterward, he drew her limp body against him. “Jillian …” He looked at the sparkling droplets beaded on the glass tile, struggling to admit the truth. “I’ve never felt this way before. The closeness between us is unique. And special.”

“Oh, Zane.” She sounded like she might cry again. “Do you know how much it means to hear that from you?”

“That’s why I told you.” He grimaced. “But sentiment feels goofy coming out of my mouth.”

She hugged him. “You’re not used to it. Over time, expressing your feelings will get easier.”

Apprehension raked chills down his spine. In spite of the steamy warmth that surrounded him, goose bumps pebbled his skin. Would it? And would he be able to slay his demons and become a good husband and father?

His stomach churned. If he were wrong, if Stoneheart’s legacy was too firmly embedded...

His failure would cost the woman and child he loved grim consequences.

Jillian’s arms tightened around him. Her hot, wet curves pressed against him, chasing away the chill. “Stop. Stop doubting yourself.”

“How the hell do you get inside my head?”

She leaned back and held his gaze, her expression steady in the swirling mist. “I don’t know, but you do it to me, too. We’re bonded on an elemental level.”

He nodded. “It’s freaky.”

“But nice?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. All his life he’d felt compelled to keep people at arm’s length. Cultivate a solitary existence. Keep a lonely credo.

But because of Jillian, that had changed.

“Okay, Champ, let’s get out of here before we turn into prune people.”

They dried off and dressed. Rosy and pink from the shower, Jillian teased him about not bringing her a nightgown, only a robe.

Then they peeked in at Casey, sleeping soundly. Standing with his arm around Jillian, and hers around him, Zane watched his sleeping son.

He’d missed way too many days like this one. Missed too many “firsts,” like the lost tooth. Missed too many crayon drawings and bedtime stories.

Jillian stroked his back. “Let’s go downstairs. I’ll make cocoa.”

Dread sank sharp talons into him. Damn, he didn’t want to do this.

But he had to walk through the fire … because Jillian and Casey waited on the other side.

Downstairs, Jillian padded to the kitchen to make the cocoa. Zane paced the living room until she softly called out and asked him to light the thick white pillar candles stacked at various heights inside the fireplace. Appreciating that she’d purposefully given him a task to stop his pacing, he touched a long match to each wick. The room filled with the glowing ambience of a fire without unnecessary heat.

She entered and handed him a warm, fragrant yellow mug. They sat on the sofa facing the fireplace. As Jillian snuggled close, he took a sip of cocoa. “Big on candlelight, aren’t you?”

“It’s warm and cozy. And soothing.”

Tense and jumpy over his imminent ordeal, his nerves jittered, his palms dampened. He managed to arch an eyebrow at her in a teasing gesture. “I sure like looking at your naked body bathed in it.”

She grinned. “Ditto.”

He shook his head. “You’re one in a million.”

“Thank you.” Her expression sobered. “But if we want to make this work, you have to share your fears so we can deal with them.”

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