Page 116 of Finders Keepers

He takes a step closer, and my heart thunders against my ribs. “You know you’re safe here, right?”

“I know.” And I do know, that’s what scares me. The way I feel safe with him, the way my body relaxes in his presence despite everything my mind screams about staying guarded.

His hand comes up, fingers ghosting along my arm, and electricity shoots through me. “Bailey…”

The way he says my name, like a prayer and a question all at once, breaks something loose inside me. I think about the other night, about his hands in my hair, his lips on mine. About how long it’s been since someone looked at me the way he does, like I’m something precious, something desired.

“We should go back to bed,” I whisper, but I don’t move.

“Yeah, we should.”

The statement hangs between us, loaded with possibility. My eyes drift to his lips.

“What do you want, Bailey?” His voice is deeper now, sending shivers down my spine.

What do I want? I want to feel something other than fear. I want to be touched with tenderness instead of anger. I want to feel wanted, desired, beautiful, all the things I see reflected in his eyes when he looks at me.

“I want…” The words stick in my throat.

His hand comes up to cup my face, and I lean into his touch without thinking. “Please…”

“I want to stop being afraid,” I breathe. “I want to feel… normal again.”

“You’re extraordinary,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing my cheekbone. “And you deserve to feel that way.”

My hands find his chest of their own accord, skin warm under my palms. His breath hitches, and the sound sends a bolt of heat through me.

“Gavin…”

He leans down, resting his forehead against mine. “We can stop anytime. Just say the word.”

But stopping is the last thing on my mind. My fingers trace the planes of his chest, exploring, learning. His muscles jump under my touch, and his hands lower to my waist.

“Bailey,” he whispers, “you’re killing me here.”

A small smile tugs at my lips. “Am I?” The darkness is making me brave, I guess. There’s something about the shadows that makes confessions easier, hiding the vulnerability in my eyes while his gaze seems to glow even in the dim light. My heart pounds against my ribs.

A low chuckle rumbles through his chest, but it cuts off when I rise on my tiptoes, bringing our faces level. His eyes search mine one last time, asking permission.

And I answer by closing the distance.

His lips are soft against mine, gentle at first, like he’s afraid I’ll break. But when I press closer, threading my fingers into his hair, something snaps. He turns us around and walks me backward until my back presses against a wall in his room, one hand cradling my head to protect it from the impact.

The kiss deepens, and I lose myself in it. In the way his body feels pressed against mine, in the little sounds he makes when I tug his hair, in the way his hands roam my sides like he’s mapping every inch.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. His dark, intense gaze, fixed on my face.

“Bailey, what do you want?” He asks in a low rumble, his breath warm on my face.

I want this. I want you. The words hover on my tongue, but I can’t quite release them. I’m scared that saying them out loud will make them too real, too vulnerable.

Instead, I tug gently on his hair, bringing his face back closer to mine. His gaze filled with desire, hold mine captive as he reads the answer.

Without a word, he slowly lifts me, and I instinctively wrap my legs around his waist, my hands still tangled in his hair. He closes the door softly with one hand, never breaking eye contact. Then he carries me to his bed, laying me down gently like I’m something precious.

The air between us is electric, charged with anticipation. He hovers over me, hands on either side of my head.

“Can I try something?” he asks, his voice hoarse with an edge of vulnerability I’ve never heard from him before.

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