Page 88 of When Love Found Us
Her breath hitches. Just slightly.
And then—she leans in, hugging me.
Not too tight. Just enough that I feel it. Just enough that I know she’s making this choice.
Her hands slip higher, her fingers tracing over my shoulders, slow and tentative, like she’s memorizing the shape of me. And, fuck, I feel it everywhere. The heat of her touch, the slow unraveling of the distance between us.
I tighten my hold, my nose brushing hers as I tip my head down, waiting—giving her the space to decide. “Blythe.”
She blinks up at me, her pupils wide, her lips parting like she’s on the edge of something she doesn’t know how to name. Then, quietly, like it’s just for me, she says, “Kiss me.”
And I do.
I don’t hesitate, don’t overthink it. I just close the space between us, my mouth pressing against hers, slow at first, testing, waiting for her to push me away.
She doesn’t.
Instead, she presses closer, her hands sliding up my neck, fingers threading into my hair. And that’s all it takes for me to sink into her, for restraint to slip, for my hands to tighten around her waist, pulling her against me. Her lips part, a quiet sound escaping—something wrecked, something raw—and, fuck, it does something to me.
I deepen the kiss, slow but unrelenting, drinking her in like I can make this last forever. Like if I kiss her the right way, she’ll stay. She’ll love me. She’ll accept me as hers.
Her fingers tighten, nails scraping lightly against my scalp, and I groan against her mouth, my hands slipping lower, gripping the soft curve of her hips, holding her exactly where I want her. She gasps against my lips, and I swallow the sound, kissing her deeper, letting her feel exactly how much I want her.
Maybe I should stop here, maybe . . . there’s a knock at the fucking door.
It’s not loud, not aggressive, but it shatters the moment all the same. Blythe goes still, her breath catching, her fingers frozen where they rest against my jaw.
“Do you think it’s Malerick again?”
He better not be, because I swear I’m not going to be nice this time. I exhale slowly, forcing myself to pull back to press my forehead against hers instead. “Stay here,” I murmur, brushing my lips against her cheek before I step away.
She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move, just watches as I cross the room, my body already tense. The knock comes again, more insistent this time, and for a moment, I wonder if I should reach for the knife I keep in the drawer before pulling the door open.
Cassian, one of my former teammates from The Organization, stands on the other side.
He looks casual as fuck—hands in his pockets, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth—but I know better. Cassian doesn’t show up at people’s doors unless he has something to say.
“Morning, Timberbridge,” he drawls. “Thought I’d stop by. See how you’re settling in.”
I don’t move. “You never just stop by, and why do you make it sound like you live in town?”
He grins and enters the place as if I had just invited him. “True. But I figured since the bar doesn’t open until five, I might as well check in. Make sure you’re . . . handling things.”
I keep my expression blank, even though I want to ask about the bar he just mentioned. “Things are fine.”
Cassian tilts his head slightly, his gaze flicking just over my shoulder—toward Blythe. “That so?”
I don’t take the bait. “What the fuck do you want, Cass?”
He exhales, rubbing a hand over his jaw before leveling me with a look. “Sanford called. He said things are moving faster than expected. You might not have the time you think you do.” He glances at himself. “Hence, I’m here to check on you.”
My stomach knots, but I don’t react. “What changed?”
Cassian lifts a shoulder. “I don’t know. I’m here to help. You should know what changed.”
I clench my jaw, my mind already racing through what that could mean.
Cassian studies me for another second, then lets out a short sigh. “Look, I know you don’t like people getting in your business, but if you want her safe, you need to be ready.”
