Page 189 of Let Me In

I blink up at him then.

He’s already watching me, eyes soft. Still storm-grey. But quiet now.

Like he knows what last night meant, and he felt it, too.

“You okay?” he murmurs. “Anything hurt?”

“A little,” I whisper. “But… not in a bad way.”

His mouth lifts, just barely.

“Still mine?” he asks softly, voice low and rough around the edges. His eyes don’t waver from mine, steady and searching, like he needs this answer more than he’ll ever say.

My breath catches, but I don’t hesitate.

“Yours.”

That one word—his word—fills the room like sunlight.

He leans in and kisses my forehead, then lingers there.

“Good,” he says against me. “Because I don’t want to go another morning without you in my arms.”

He doesn’t move right away. Just stays there, holding me like I’m something precious and warm andhis.His thumb strokes the curve of my waist through the sheets, each pass slow and grounding. I let myself melt into him, my cheek over his heart, its beat echoing in my chest.

Eventually, he speaks again. Low and close.

“You hungry?”

I nod against his skin. “A little. Not enough to get up.”

He hums. “I’ll make you something.”

I start to shift, to sit up, but his arm tightens around me—gentle but firm.

“Let me,” he says. “Just this once.”

Something in me softens at the words. My body stills against him, heat blooming low in my belly. It's not just the offer. It’s the way he says it. Quiet, sure. Like it’s a gift he wants to give, not a duty to take on.

My lips part, but I don’t argue.

Because maybe I like being taken care of.

And I’ve never really been taken care of like this before.

He slips out from beneath the covers and lifts me with him, strong arms bracketing me close. I squeak a little at the motion, instinctively, but I don’t resist.

“Cal—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, already walking. “I’ve got you, little one.”

He carries me to the kitchen like I weigh nothing. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. One hand beneath my thighs, the other steady at my back. I curl into him without thinking, legs tucked loosely around his waist, my face buried against his neck.

He sets me down in one of the kitchen chairs, tucks a blanket around my shoulders, and presses another kiss to the top of my head.

“Sit. Stay warm. I’ll take care of the rest.”

And he does.

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