Wound Up(83)
Third, he was going to be her safety and security. No matter the cost, he would provide a safe haven for her. Period. He was so grateful the arms she’d fled to had been his. She was stronger than she believed herself to be, and smart enough to fend for herself. But she’d be stronger with him by her side. Only him. He would love her harder than anyone had ever been loved.
Everything inside him stilled. There it was again, that word. Love. What he’d thought he’d known of it, what he’d anticipated it would feel like—he threw it all out and held on to what he now understood love was. It was this woman in his arms, his own amazing Grace.
Murmuring words of encouragement, words to make her understand she was safe and cherished and loved, he gently moved her toward the pickup and searched with one hand until he found the tailgate latch. Letting it down, he eased his way onto the tailgate and pulled her with him, letting her curl up in his lap.
“Don’t let go.” She hiccupped the whispered plea between harsh breaths.
“Never, Grace,” he whispered into her hair. “Never.”
“I have nowhere to go.” Her voice betrayed her broken spirit, and it slayed him as effectively as if she’d run him through with a sword.
He stroked her hair, thinking through his next words carefully. “You have me, baby. I want to ask you to do me a huge favor, one I understand goes against everything you’ve been taught.”
She buried her face in his shirt and gave a pained laugh. “At this point? Anything.”
The first note of hope rang through him. “I’m going to hold you to that. I’m going to go inside, call a cab and we’re going back to my place. It’s...rough, but it’s safe and secure.”
“Why would you do that for me?”
He lifted her chin and waited until she looked up at him. “Because I care about you. I didn’t start to live until you came into the club. Before then, I breathed, my heart beat, my pulse registered. I was alive but I wasn’t living. Not until you.”
He’d been waiting, always waiting, for life to get on with it. He’d worked so hard for so long, and he’d always hoped there was more to it than eighty-hour workweeks, sleepless nights cramming for exams and crashing on his mother’s sofa. And then Grace had sat in his class. The first time she’d smiled at him, the first time she’d challenged him, that’s when his life started. And over the past three days, she’d shown him the waiting had been worth it.
He’d fallen in love.
He leaned forward, never closing his eyes, never breaking away from her wide-eyed stare, and gently laid his lips to hers. This was a kiss meant to heal old hurts and build new foundations. It was a moment between them, a covenant of truth that would hold and never be forgotten.
Her lips were soft, her response tentative.
He persisted, never pushing but never giving up the ground he’d made. She had to know he could be strong enough for the two of them.
When she finally began to respond, he kept things slow, almost lazy, despite the burning need he had to lay her down and love her senseless. There would be time for that. For now? This was the most he would do. He’d show her in every way he could imagine that he loved her madly, passionately, thoroughly and wholly. And when the moment was right, when she’d found her footing again, he’d give her the words.
Breaking away, he cupped her face. “If that doesn’t convey the fact you didn’t ruin my life, you’ll just have to stick around until I can find a way to better explain it.”