I shrug helplessly, staring at the blanket. “Life. Trauma. Bad choices. My sister being my whole world. And I… I never met anyone who felt safe. Anyone I wanted close.”
I glance up, and the way he’s looking at me makes my chest ache.
“Until now?” he asks softly.
My throat tightens. “Until you,” I whisper.
Rhett holds my gaze for a long moment, something in him shifting like a door unlocking. Then he reaches out slowly, giving me time to stop him. His knuckles brush along my cheek, warm and gentle.
“Tell me if you don’t want this,” he murmurs.
My lips part. I shake my head. “I want it,” I admit, voice trembling. “I’m just… nervous.”
A faint, almost-smile touches his mouth. “Good. So am I.”
That makes me laugh softly—breathy and disbelieving. “You?” I whisper.
He dips closer, his forehead nearly touching mine. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
My pulse goes wild.
He leans in and kisses me. It’s slow at first—just a soft press of his mouth to mine, like he’s testing. Like he’s making sure I’m real.
And then something in me melts. I kiss him back, clumsy and eager all at once, like my body has been waiting for this language and only now remembers how to speak it.
Rhett makes a low sound in his throat—something that vibrates through me—and his hand slides to the back of my neck, steadying me, deepening the kiss just enough to make my brain go blank. His mouth is warm. He tastes faintly like toothpaste and something darker—something him. The feel of his lips on mine is… too much and not enough all at once. I grip his arm, fingers digging into muscle, needing an anchor.
He breaks the kiss just slightly, hovering close. His breath brushes my mouth. “You okay?” he asks, voice rough.
I nod, but it’s a pathetic little nod because I’ve forgotten how to be a functioning person. “Yes,” I whisper. “I’m okay.”
His gaze flicks over my face like he’s memorizing me. Then he kisses me again, slower, deeper, like he’s claiming time itself.
My whole body lights up.
His hand moves from my neck to my waist, pulling me closer until the gap between us disappears. The heat of him presses into me, and it’s intoxicating—safe and strong and overwhelming.
I gasp softly into his mouth, and Rhett pauses.
He pulls back just enough to look at me. “Emma.” The way he says my name makes it feel like a promise.
I swallow, breath shaking. “Rhett.”
His thumb strokes my cheek. “We can stop.”
I shake my head again, unable to stop myself from leaning closer. “Don’t.”
Something flashes in his eyes—need, restraint, reverence all tangled. He kisses my forehead, then my cheek, then the cornerof my mouth like he’s trying to slow down, trying to do this right. And that tenderness is somehow hotter than anything else.
I slide my hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat under my palm—steady, strong, but faster now.
“You feel safe,” he murmurs against my skin.
I close my eyes. “With you… I do.”
His breath leaves him in a slow exhale, like that’s the thing he needed to hear. Like it anchors him too.
I’m trembling, not from cold—the fire’s been crackling low in the hearth for hours—but from the sheer size of him pressed so close. Rhett’s body is a wall of heat and hard muscle, his flannel shirt long discarded, his skin rough with scars and dark hair that trails down his chest and disappears beneath the waistband of his sweats. We’re lying on our sides in his big, creaky bed, facing each other, noses almost touching. My heart is slamming so hard I’m sure he can feel it through my ribs.