Page 61 of Courage, Dear Heart

He runs a hand through his hair, spiking it in different directions, and I curb the urge to find out how soft his hair is. He’s close enough now that we could touch if either of us reached out for the other.

His chest expands with a deep breath; the T-shirt hugs him tighter. “Yeah, work stuff I’m trying to figure out how to deal with.”

I frown. “I thought you only dealt with contracts.”

His gaze lingers on my face for a long time. “My father is pushing me to do something I’m not in agreement with.”

“Can you refuse? Or offer a different approach?”

“Not for this particular deal. There’s a lot depending on it. But I’m here to get away from work, and so are you. No shop talk.” He smiles, but there’s no joy in it.

And I offer the only help I can think of. “Hug?”

THIRTY-ONE

Elliott

Hug?Hell yes. I’m not about to turn it down. I open my arms and in the next moment we’re touching chest to thighs. The hug starts light, a friendly embrace of comfort. But it turns into something else with the speed of light. She melts into me as I wrap both my arms around her back and waist. Her small frame bends into mine as she goes on tiptoes to rest her hands on my shoulders. I bury my face in her hair and inhale. She smells like flowers, like hope, like home. My arms tighten around her, and we’re flushed together. Her breasts pressed into my chest, the thin fabric of our shirts doing nothing to keep me from feeling every inch of her body against mine.

I want to stay here forever, but my dick is wide awake now and getting ideas that I know Jillian is not ready to entertain.

With extreme effort, I loosen my grip and after a few moments, she lowers herself, her bare feet flat on the flooragain. Her hands slide down my arms, sending shivers everywhere.

I hold on to her waist, my hands refusing to let go.

She grasps my forearms, her gaze searching my face. “Better?”

“Yes.” I nod while my body screams for more.

She goes on tiptoes again and presses a soft kiss to my cheek, lingering for the briefest moment. It’s so fleeting I question it even happened, but the warmth of her lips stays with me, and I turn to her, searching her face.

Our eyes meet, and I don’t move, don’t dare do anything to break whatever spell has settled over us. Her gaze drops to my mouth, and the air between us shifts—heavy with something unspoken. She steps closer, so close I can feel her breath against my lips, and my pulse spikes.

She leans in, her lips brushing mine in a barely there whisper of a kiss. My body locks, and for a second, I’m not sure if I’m breathing. The softness of her mouth sends a wave of heat through me. This is her choice, her move. She wants this. She wants me.

Her lips graze mine again, firmer this time, and I swear I feel her sigh—a quiet exhale that speaks of relief, of want, of surrender. My hands lift, cupping her face gently as she presses closer, her lips parting slightly, inviting me in.

I move slowly, cautiously, letting her set the pace, tasting her sweetness as I brush my lips over hers. It’s soft, almost reverent, and yet it sparks something electric in me, something I can’t ignore. Her hands settle on my chest, and the warmth of her touch seeps through my shirt, grounding me even as my body hums with anticipation.

Her lips part further, deepening the kiss. I can’t hold backanymore. I meet her, tasting her, losing myself in the moment. My fingers stay on her face, careful not to overwhelm her, but every part of me aches to pull her closer, to lose myself in her completely.

The kiss is unhurried but powerful, every stroke of her lips against mine sending a jolt through me. She’s here, she’s with me, and for the first time, I let myself believe this is real. That she’s choosing this, choosing me.

When we finally pull apart, her eyes flutter open, her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly swollen. I can’t help but smile, my thumb brushing lightly over her cheek. She stares at me, a mix of wonder and nervousness in her gaze, and it takes everything in me not to kiss her again.

“Jillian,” I whisper, my voice low, steadying. “Thank you.”

Her lips curve into a small, shy smile. “For what?”

“For giving me that. For giving us this.”

And in her eyes, I see it—a spark of certainty, of something stronger than either of us is ready to name. But it’s there, and for now, that’s enough.

I kiss her forehead, then step back, our hands falling away from each other. I walk backward toward my room. “Good night, Jillian.”

We both retreat behind closed doors.

THIRTY-TWO

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