Page 19 of The Contractor's Rose
That guilt was a goddamn poison, curling under my ribs. Because I wasn’t just fixing furniture anymore. I wasn’t just some harmless presence in their lives.
I was a man haunted by the feel of their daughter’s skin under his hands. By the sound she made when I kissed her. By the thought of everything I still hadn’t let myself have.
“You’re a part of our family, Gavin,” Harry said, leaning back with something that sounded like pride. “Always have been. And I’m glad she’s got you in her corner through this. I really mean that.”
Part of the family.
Right.
If only they knew the thoughts I had about their daughter. The things I wanted to do to her in that apartment upstairs. The things I thought about when she wore those soft little dresses and looked up at me with trust in her eyes. If only they knew how badly I wanted to bury myself in her and never come up for air.
If only they knew how much I already have.
I thought about the way she made me feel like a man again, not just like the broken thing I'd been since Vanessa died.
“I’ll keep her safe,” I said, and I meant it.
Even if it meant keeping this thing between Rose and me a secret for a little while longer.
Even if it meant burning with want every time I saw her and pretending like she was just my friend’s daughter.
Because at the end of the day, Iwouldprotect her.
Even if that meant protecting her from me.
ELEVEN
ROSEMARIE
He kissedme again last night.
And it was not some tentative, maybe-this-was-a-mistake kind of kiss. It was another possessive kiss. A claim. The kind of kiss that leaves you sore-mouthed and trembling and soaking through your damn panties.
I could still feel his hands on me—one cupping the side of my face, fingers rough but reverent, while the other had a grip on my hip that was sure to leave bruises. The pressure of his palm had branded me, like he wanted to hold me in place and never let go.
God.
I don’t know how I made it through the rest of that night. I barely remember locking the door behind him. My heart was pounding too hard, my thighs pressed together like that could stop the desire that was aflame.
It didn’t.
Nothing had stopped it since.
Not the state of my store, which still smelled like mildewand ruin. The floorboards creaked like they were mourning with me. I couldn’t even walk through the main room without feeling like something sacred had been ripped from me.
Not even the guilt crawling under my skin every time I saw my parents. Orhis daughter, who I ran into outside the post office yesterday. Teagan gave me one of those half-smirks she’s always had.
Back in high school, she was the pretty one. The cool one. I was the quiet, bookish girl she’d occasionally pretend to be nice to when teachers were watching. Her approval was always conditional. Temporary. A game.
Now? Now I was fuckingfantasizingabout her dad.
But it wasn’t just a fantasy anymore.
I sat cross-legged on the floor of my bedroom, surrounded by stacks of warped books that I’d been trying to sort all morning. I hadn’t cried today. That felt like a win. But I hadn’t gotten much done, either—not when my mind kept drifting back to Gavin’s voice.
The way his mouth had taken mine like it had every right to. Like he was tasting something forbidden and didn’t care.
And his hands—God, those hands. Big and calloused from years of work, but gentle when they wanted to be. I wanted them on me again. On my waist. My thighs. Between my legs. I’d never wanted something so filthy in my life.
