Page 30 of The Contractor's Rose
She blinked fast, lashes fluttering like she was trying to keep something at bay. Emotion, doubt, maybe both. I recognized it. Hell, Iknewit. I’d worn that same expression too many times. So I cradled her face again, brushing my thumb just beneath her eye.
“I don’t need you to be perfect,” I said, low and sure. “I just need you to be mine.”
Her breath hitched. Her fingers fisted in my shirt like she didn’t trust this moment to last, like I might disappear if she let go.
I wasn’t going anywhere.
I held her tighter. Let her fall into me with all the weight of everything she was afraid to say out loud. Her scent—vanilla, old books, something uniquely hers—wrapped around me.
And for a second, nothing else existed.
Not the broken shop. Not the wreckage of what we were trying to pick up and build around us. Not the storm we both knew could hit when the rest of the world found out. But even wrapped in that quiet, I could feel the tension still pulling in her chest. Like she didn’t know if we were on solid ground or sinking fast.
She spoke again, voice barely there. “Do you think we’re going to get away with this?”
I didn’t ask what she meant. I already knew. I just kissed her forehead, slow and certain.
“I think we’ll figure it out. One step at a time.”
“And if we don’t?” she stated with concern.
I tilted her chin again so she’d look at me, so she’d see how damn serious I was.
“Then I’ll take the fall. You’ve got enough on your plate, sweetheart.”
I leaned in, letting my mouth graze her ear as I said it. Letting her feel the truth in it. “And I’d do it every damn day if it meant seeing you smile again.”
She didn’t answer—not with words. Just melted into me like that was the only place she felt safe. And maybe it was.
Maybe I wanted to be that place for her.
Hell, maybe I already was.
The way she looked at me—like I was something more than I believed I could be—it wrecked me in a way nothing else had. Not even the years of pain, or guilt, or loss. Not even the weight of the things I’d never said out loud.
This was different.
She was different.
For the first time in a long, long time, I felt something close to peace. Not because the world was quiet. But because she was in my arms—and that made everything else feel a little less loud.
Less lonely.
SEVENTEEN
ROSEMARIE
Gavin’s handswere gentle as he slid the straps of my dress back over my shoulders, a stark contrast to how fiercely he’d touched me moments ago. His fingers lingered a second longer than necessary before he helped me down from the counter, like I was something delicate. Breakable. Like I was a piece of fine glass he didn’t trust gravity with.
His touch didn’t disappear even after my feet hit the ground. He kept his hands at my waist, warm and grounding. But one thing was very obviously missing: my panties.
I cleared my throat, my voice catching slightly as I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. “Um … Gavin?”
He raised an eyebrow, all too casual. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
“I think you forgot something that belongs under my dress.”
That slow, wicked smile curled across his face, equal parts smug and devastating. “I forgot nothing.” His voice dropped to that low, gravelly register that turned my spine to jelly. He stepped back, heat still clinging to the air between us. “I’m keeping thosefor later.”
