Page 73 of Ardently Yours

“I’ll be careful with you and Bronnie both,” I promise. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not your heart, or your spirit, or your body. I swear it.”

She nods, her mouth working as though she’s trying to speak but can’t find the words.

My lips find hers, and it’s a mess of a kiss. There’s not a sexy thing about it with both of us choking on tears, but it’s as necessary as breathing.

When I lift my head, she picks at the edge of the blue acrylic draped around my neck.

“You’re wearing my scarf,” she says in a watery voice.

“I always wear your scarf when I’m cold.”

“Oh.” She nods, then gives me a wobbly smile.

Five minutes of arguingwith my Close Protection Officer later, gift bag in hand, I tap on her door with a knuckle.

Reese may be furious that I’m planning to sleep in an unsecured location, and even more furious that I told him and Brock to get a couple rooms at the Blackwater Inn and pick me up in ten hours, but there’s not a thing either of them can do about it. All of us need some sleep before getting back on the road, and like hell am I doing it without Charlotte.

No one knows I’m here. The risk is virtually nonexistent.

We came to a compromise that more than satisfies me. The two of them will split the shift and do drive-bys past the property every hour. Reese is also calling in some of the team to get out here and install a security system for her. She may as well be sleeping in a tent for as difficult as it would be for someone to get to her.

When Charlotte opens her door and steps back to invite me in, my first impression is that her home is smaller than I imagined. I could place my palm flat against her ceilings without straightening my arm. I’ll have to duck to step through her doorways. I’ve seen hundreds of photos of her and Bronnie in their home, but perspective was missing for me.

I hold out the bag. “Party favor?”

She grins and takes it from me to hug to her chest. “You remembered. Thank you.”

I remove my overcoat, then notice she has a tray that holds her and Bronnie’s shoes set to the left of the door, so I toe off my size 12s and place them next to a dainty pair ofMy Little Ponysneakers.

My lips curve at the sight of those little pink and white shoes. My boys never wore anything with cartoons on them. The personal shopper I use favors outfits that look like little versions of adult clothing, but Charlotte sent Gabriel aThomas the Tank EngineT-shirt last summer, and I’d never seen him happier when it was time to get dressed.

Charlotte takes my overcoat and scarf and hangs them on a wooden peg next to her own ski jacket.

“How do Santa’s elves manage to leave presents on your porch if you chase off trespassers with lethal weapons?” I ask, genuinely curious. After the first year, I was able to tell them her schedule. Before that, I have no idea how they did it.

“Bronnie and I slept at my parents’ on Christmas Eve the first year, so I didn’t find out about it until we came home. After that, they delivered while we were at Midnight Mass at St. James.”

I prowl toward her, the subfloor creaking under thin, rose-colored carpet with every step I take. Charlotte’s home is unfamiliar to me, not just because I’ve never been here, but because I’ve never been inside anything remotely like it.

I’ll look around later. Right now, I don’t want to drag my eyes from Charlotte.

I stalk the three steps across the room, until I’ve got both hands on her ass and gently, but firmly, tug her against me, until the hard ridge of my cock presses against the softness of her abdomen. “What time do you plan to pick up Bronnie?”

“My parents didn’t expect me to come back until tomorrow morning. We can sleep for a while.”

I take her mouth, and she takes mine right back, both of us reaching and grasping and fucking desperate. I’ve wanted her for too long for anything about this to be reasonable or measured. Bombs could be going off outside this trailer, and I wouldn’t notice anything but the feel of her tongue against mine, her bare skin under my hands, the gentle floral scent of her, the taste of her. Just her. My Charlotte.

She takes my hand and drags me through a tiny utility room off the kitchen, then into the quiet darkness of her bedroom, lit only by the nightlight I assume she keeps there for Bronnie.

We pull each other’s clothing off. My cock is already pushing its way past the waistband of my briefs, and when she drags the cotton down my thighs, my erection slaps against my abdomen in response.

She stares and bites her lip.

“You’re thinking naughty thoughts, Charlotte.” Kicking my clothing away, I advance on her, and she backs toward the bed.

She smiles. “I really, really am.”

“Are you going to tell me any of those thoughts?”

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