Page 48 of Hometown Heart

Jack nodded. "If you're sure."

"I am." And for the first time in years, maybe ever, I had no doubts at all.

We walked up the narrow staircase silently, my fingers fumbling with the keys. Every creak of the wooden steps echoed around us.

My apartment was familiar to me, but it had seen relatively few visitors over the years. I tried to see it through Jack's eyes—the copper kettle on the stove, books stacked on every surface, windows framing the harbor view now obscured by darkness and swirling snow.

Jack paused just inside the doorway, taking it all in. His gaze lingered on an old record player in the corner and then on my collection of hand-thrown pottery mugs lining three shelves.

"It suits you." He wrapped an arm around my waist.

I moved to turn on a lamp, grateful for something to do with my hands. The soft glow spread across the room, casting long shadows against the walls.

Jack shrugged off his coat, draping it over the back of a kitchen chair.

"Can I get you anything?" I asked, retreating to the comforting territory of hospitality. "Coffee? Or I might have some wine somewhere—"

"Silas." Jack's voice was gentle but firm. He took a step toward me, closing the distance I'd created. "Stop hosting."

My rehearsed responses died on my lips. Jack stood before me, patient, his eyes reflecting the lamplight.

"Sorry," I murmured. "Habit."

"I know." He reached for a hand and twined our fingers together. "You take care of everyone. Let someone take care of you for once."

The simple statement pulled a knot loose that had been tightening inside me for years. I exhaled, shoulders dropping as the tension seeped away.

"I don't know how to do this."

"Do what?"

"Let someone in." My gaze dropped to our joined hands. "I've spent so long keeping people at a safe distance."

Jack's free hand came up to tilt my chin, bringing my eyes back to his. "I know. I've been watching you do it since the day we met." A small smile spread across his lips.

"And still, you're here."

"Here I am." His thumb brushed against my cheek. "Because some things are well worth waiting for."

His sincerity broke through my final defenses.

Jack pulled me closer. His hand slid around my waist, steady and warm through the thin flannel fabric of my old shirt. He pressed his body against mine.

A soft sound—somewhere between a sigh and a moan—came from me while the tip of his tongue teased mine.

We moved across the room without breaking our touch, stumbling slightly when my hip caught the corner of the coffee table. Jack steadied me. The back of my legs hit the edge of the sofa, and he gave a light push. We tumbled onto the plush surface together.

"Is this okay?" He murmured the question against my lips.

I didn't answer in words. Instead, I pulled him against me, sliding my hands up under the back of his shirt.

"So much more than okay."

Time slowed as we explored each other with unhurried touches. Jack's fingers worked at the buttons of my shirt,exposing skin inch by inch. His hands were slightly calloused, architect's hands that knew how to build and create. They moved across my shoulders and down my arms, learning my contours with deliberate care.

I ran my fingers through his hair, amazed at how soft it was, contrasting with his solid, muscular build. When his lips found the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder, a shiver raced up my spine.

"You're beautiful," he whispered against my skin.

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