Page 74 of Where the Blacktop Ends

And if I don’t get my shit together soon, I might lose her before she ever is.

Her lips part in a soft sigh as she nestles in closer to me, her fingers instinctively wrapping around my back to hold on. My heart freezes for a moment, and I quicken my pace up the stairs and into her room, carefully nudging the door open with my foot.

I resist the urge to lay her down and stay—wrap myself around her, breathe her in all night, and lose myself in the quiet comfort of having her this close.

God, I want to.

But I can’t.

Not because I don’t want to hold her—Ido. Hell, I’m aching for it. But there’s a knot in my chest, a flicker of doubt gnawing at the edges of my control.

What if she thinks it’s James?

The thought punches through me like a fist to the gut. The way she’s clinging to me now, soft and trusting, her fingers curling into my shirt like she’sholding on—I need to believe it’s because sheknowsit’s me.

But that little voice in the back of my mind won’t shut up. The one that tells me I wasn’t good enough to get Max’s mom to stay. That I wasn’t enough and wouldn’t be enough for Georgia either.

I’ve missed her.

Missed her so damn much.

And all weekend, I’ve been coming undone, consumed by the rage boiling just beneath the surface. Furious at the paparazzi for ambushing her and Liam. For putting them both in danger.

So, when I woke up Saturday morning, I didn’t think. I justacted.

I drove straight into the city and met with my lawyer—the best in Manhattan—ready to burn the whole damn place down. I wanted blood. Those photographers, the driver of that black SUV,all of them. What they did wasn’t just an invasion of privacy. It was a threat. And I wasn’t about to let them get away with it.

Even now, as I gently lower her onto the bed, my mind is still tangled in lawsuits and security measures, trying to figure out how to protect her from a world that doesn’t give a damn about the damage it leaves behind.

But then—

She shifts.

Her body molds into the sheets, her face turning into my touch as I brush her hair behind her ear.

And just like that—Everything else fades.

Her lip’s part on a sleepy sigh, and then she murmurs, soft and barely audible—

“Stay, Troy. Please.”

My heart stops.

She knows it’s me.

That one whispered word—my name—shatters every insecurity, every doubt, dissolving the ache in my chest like smoke.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her eyes flutter open, those dark lashes framing innocent, way too trusting eyes. “Why not?”

“Because if I stay, I’m going to want to be inside of you,” I admit, my voice rough, the words raw. I’ve resisted for so long, I’m not sure I can hold out any longer. Two tastes of her haven’t been enough and I’ve been rock solid since I got home, resisting taking a hand to myself to get some relief while she was downstairs in my home with another guy.

She lets out a soft, breathy sigh that sends a jolt straight through me unshackling the last of my restraint. “Why don’t you want to have sex with me?” she whispers.

I swallow hard, staring down at her. She’s laying there, looking like a damn angel, and as much as I know it’s selfish, I know I’m going to give into her pleas. There’s a lot at stake—Liam, Max, my family in North Carolina. Everyone is counting on me. The campaign for governor, the brewery, the hatchery, my dad’s legacy. And Georgia. She deserves more than what I can give her right now—more love, more attention, more safety, more than the chaos that’s surrounding my life. But even knowing that, I still want her. I stillneedher. I’ve been holding back because I know that once I have her, that’ll be it for me and I’m not sure if she’s ready for that level of commitment.

I’m an experienced man, not one who plays games and my surety for Georgia, might scare her away.

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