Page 57 of You've Got The Love
I freeze for half a second. Not because I’m afraid—but because I wasn’t expecting tenderness wrapped in something so simple. I nod.
The cabin’s tiny bathroom barely fits the two of us, but it doesn’t matter. The water takes a while to warm, sputtering at first before turning steady. Steam curls around us, and the air goes thick with the scent of soap and skin and heat.
He washes my hair gently, fingers dragging slowly through the curls, and I close my eyes, letting the tension melt away. I run my hands over his chest, across the scars hidden deep beneath the surface, ones I’ve only traced in shadows until now.
When we step out, towels wrapped tight, Bas pulls me into him without a word. His hands are warm on my back. He kisses my shoulder, my collarbone, the corner of my mouth. Nothing demanding. Just there.Present.
Later, we crawl back beneath the covers, skin still damp, bodies tangled.
“I sold a painting once,” he murmurs against my hair.
“Yeah?”
“The sea. Just… blue and grey and white. I didn’t think much of it. Sanne bought it before I could second-guess myself.”
“That’s so lovely,” I say, genuinely touched. “You sell your work, Bas, I know people would buy it.”
He shrugs but doesn’t look away. “Maybe I will.”
There’s a softness to his voice that wasn’t there yesterday. A loosening. A willingness to hope.
There’s a pause. Then, “You feel like home.”
I close my eyes. My throat tightens, and tears prick my eyes, but I don’t speak. I just take his hand in mine and squeeze, then press a kiss to his wrist and place it over my heart.
For now, we don’t need anything else. The world outside is still a threat, but in here—in this quiet, hidden place—we’re just two people choosing each other.
And maybe that’s enough.
But as I lie there, curled against him, I feel it pressing at the edges of my heart—the truth of what we’ve stepped into. This isn’t just some passing thing. It’s not a distraction from the danger or a comfort in the quiet. It’s real.Raw. Entirely unexpected.
And I’m scared, too. Not of him. Not even of the road ahead. But of what it will do to me if I lose this—lose him—after finally feeling what it’s like to beseen. To be held not because someone had to, but because they wanted to. Because he wantsme.
He’s right beside me, and still I feel that ache—the ache of wanting time to freeze, just for a little while, so we can live in this safety a little longer.
His hand tightens around mine as if he hears the thought echo through me. And maybe he does.
I press a kiss to his chest and whisper into the hush between us, “I’ve never felt anything like this.”
Bas doesn’t answer, not with words. Just the steady rise and fall of his breathing, his arm pulling me closer, and the weight of something unspoken settling around us like a vow.
I let myself believe in it, even just for tonight.
Chapter 32
Bastiaan
The gentle rocking of the houseboat stirs me awake.
For a second, I forget where we are—just long enough to believe the world outside isn’t dangerous. Then I feel her. Warm and soft in my arms. And I remember everything. The van. The roads. The fear.
But also her.Amber.
Morning light filters through the small windows, spilling over the rumpled sheets. It touches her bare shoulder, her back, the soft curve of her arse peeking out from beneath the covers. One of her legs is slung over mine, skin-to-skin, warm and smooth. She’s still asleep, her body tucked into mine like she belongs there.
She does.
I let my eyes wander over her. Slowly.Hungrily. The way I always do when I know she won’t catch me. She’s beautiful in the way that undoes something in me. Curves that fit perfectly in my hands. Skin I could spend a lifetimemapping with my mouth. There are faint marks on her thighs, little bruises from where I gripped her last night, and the sight sends a dark, possessive pulse straight through me.
