I’d never felt more complete than I did around him. Never felt more myself.
The door opened.
I looked up without thinking.
Bennet stepped inside, Rowan at his side, both of them looking like they’d wandered into the wrong ecosystem. Rowan scanned the room with open suspicion. Bennet hesitated for a second, shoulders tense, then lifted his head.
His gaze swept the room.
And then it found me.
His expression changed immediately. The tension melted. His smile spread slow and real, confidence sliding into place like it had always been waiting for this exact moment.
Oh shit.
The thought landed fully formed, quiet and devastating in its certainty.
I’m in love with him, aren’t I?
Bennet started toward me, Rowan trailing behind like a disgruntled bodyguard, and I straightened without thinking. The noise fell away. The house blurred at the edges.
All I could see was him.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
jason
The music didn’t getany quieter after Bennet walked in. If anything, it felt louder and heavier. The bass thudded against my ribs, matching my pulse, and I stood there with my back straighter than it had been all night, beer still warm and untouched in my hand, suddenly too aware of my own body.
He was here.
That should’ve been enough. It should’ve been a relief, a payoff, the moment where everything settled into something familiar and easy. Instead, it made everything sharper.
Bennet smiled at me from across the room, that slow, real smile that never felt like a performance. It had taken me weeks to earn the first smile, and then he shared them with me generously. He threaded his way through the crowd with Rowan hovering half a step behind him, grumbling at someone who got too close.Bennet didn’t rush. He didn’t look nervous anymore. He looked sure.
And that scared the shit out of me.
Because I wasn’t just excited to see him. I wasn’t just thinking about getting him upstairs later, about the heat and the closeness and the way he fit against me like he’d always belonged there. I was thinking about how my chest had gone tight earlier, just imagining him standing in front of my door. About how the thought of him not showing up had felt so wrong it hurt.
This wasn’t just sex. It hadn’t been for weeks.
Somewhere along the line, it had slipped past that point quietly, without asking permission. Late nights that turned into early mornings and silences that didn’t itch. The way he listened, really listened, like my words mattered even when I was saying nothing important at all. And the way he told me to shut up, cute and feisty and so very right for me.
I’d done this before.
Not like this, exactly, but close enough to recognize the pattern, falling too fast. The way I gave everything right away, like love was something you could earn by being generous enough. The way I let myself imagine futures before anyone else had agreed to be in them.
I always told myself I’d be smarter next time.
I always believed it, right up until the moment I wasn’t.
Bennet laughed at something Rowan said and glanced back at me, checking in without even thinkingabout it. The look he gave me wasn’t possessive or questioning. It was warm. Assured. Like he knew where he belonged in this room.
With me.
My stomach flipped.
I’d been beautiful and temporary to so many people. A good time. A phase. Something they enjoyed until it asked for more than they were ready to give. I’d learned to be charming about it. I learned to pretend it didn’t hurt. I learned to convince myself that wanting less was the same thing as being strong.