“Come upstairs with me,” he says. Not a command—an invitation.
I hesitate just long enough to feel the line I drew, to choose it, or step over it with my eyes open. And then, “Okay.”
In the bedroom, we don’t flip on the overhead light, the lamps casting the room in a honeyed glow. I take off my slippers and Worth shrugs off his jacket. We meet at the foot of the bed as if our feet decided before our heads did.
“Can I?” he asks, palm hovering at my waist.
“Yes.”
Worth draws me in, and the first kiss is the kind that lets everything from the day drain away. His mouth is careful; mine mirrors his.
We deepen the kiss, and I begin to unbutton Worth’s shirt, then his trousers. When his clothes pool around him, I let myhands roam his body, my palms running over all of his edges. His Adam’s apple, the muscles on his arms, the ripples on his stomach.
He hisses at my touch, eyes falling shut like he wants to savor all of it. When he meets my gaze again, there’s so much I could say, but instead I breathe, “This feels real,” into the small space between us.
“It is,” he says, just as soft.
“Touch me, please?”
Worth doesn’t respond with words. He nudges my arms up and slips off my shirt, then pushes down my leggings. He takes a step back to admire my almost naked form.
“You’re so beautiful it hurts,” he murmurs, toying with a loose curl at my temple. For a moment, we just look at each other.
Worth is sculpted like a damn statue. I can’t take my eyes off him.
And I don’t. I soak him in, memorizing every line like it might be the last time I get to see him like this. Because now that our arrangement has technically run its course, it means whatever this is between us is supposed to be over, too.
“Hey. Come back to me,” Worth murmurs, pulling me out of my head.
I smile, eyes dropping to my feet. “Sorry.”
He tips my chin up, and kisses me softly. “Don’t be. Just be with me.”
I know he means right now, in this moment, but we both know it carries more weight than that.
Worth wants me to stay.
But I don’t know if I can.
Whatever is stopping me from believing this is real is louder than common sense, louder than how good he is to me and to Bri. It’s fear—plain and simple. And I don’t want to tell him that,because if I do, he’ll move mountains to pull it out of me, and I know he’d succeed.
I just don’t know if I’m ready for everything.
I don’t know ifhe’sready forme.
He’s lived a certain way for years—women, freedom, no explanations—and being thrown into this domestic bubble can mess with anyone’s head. I don’t want to be the woman he settles for, only to then realize later he doesn’t want to be tied down. I don’t want to hand him my whole heart and watch him remember he liked his life better when he didn’t have to answer to anyone.
Worth notices I’ve drifted off again. “Talk to me, baby.”
I can’t.
I shake my head. “I don’t want to talk. Just feel.”
For once, I don’t fight it. I allow the wanting to be uncomplicated. Tomorrow will bring logistics and every way life can test a choice.
Tonight, I let myself get lost in Worth.
45