Page 23 of Her Only Hero
I giggled. “Now you’re being silly.”
He lightly caressed my back with his fingertips. Relaxed and limp, I closed my eyes to feel his unhurried doting touch more completely. Was I lucky or blessed?
It was both.
I wanted to tell Patrick the real reason I needed to use the constraints. And now, because of him, I didn’t need them anymore. To build on our relationship, I needed to be honest and tell him what my fear had been, even at the risk of him judging the reason for my kinky behavior.
“June?”
“Yes?”
“I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but somebody must have done some number on you.”
How did he know? Tears burned my eyes. He’d verbalized and validated my pain.
Something squeezed my throat, and it was difficult to find my voice. “I believed I had something rare with someone, and then he was gone.”
He pulled me closer. I blinked, and a tear escaped from the edge of my eye.
Who would have thought I’d fall in love with the miserable cop I had at one time wanted to kick out of my house?
Chapter Twelve
Sheltered from a storm. A pea in a pod. A birdie in a nest. Half awake, I stretched as I thought of metaphors to describe how Patrick made me feel. Protected. Where I belong.
The smell of coffee wafted to the loft. I scrambled out of bed and pulled on one of Patrick’s shirts. I smoothed my hand over my hair and tiptoed to the railing. Clad in only boxer shorts, Patrick was busy in the kitchen. I bit my bottom lip. Now that was a sight I could get used to.
He looked up. “Good morning.”
I waved. “I’ll be right down.” I turned, and my phone alarm beeped in my purse on the floor. I grabbed it and noticed the water-damaged business card I had found at the crime scene. It completely slipped my mind to tell Patrick about it. I slid the card into the shirt pocket I was wearing.
Barefoot, I advanced downstairs. Patrick held a wood cutting board as a tray. On it sat a cup of coffee, a protein bar, a blue crocus flower in a shot glass, and a folded piece of paper tucked underneath.
He smiled. “My shirt never looked so good.”
“I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind?” He chuckled. “I thank you.”
Flattered, I pressed my lips together in a smile. “What do you got there?”
“Just a bite to hold you over until we grab breakfast somewhere.”
“This is sweet of you, Patrick. Thank you.” I reached for the folded note.
I’ll never leave you, June.
P
Breath caught in my throat. His written words flowed like a protective, healing salve over my heart.
“Patrick—”
After our conversation last night, his note showed depth, understanding, and acknowledgement of the hurt I had gone through in my previous relationship. I took the board from him and set it on the counter. His bare chest had been inviting enough, but the man on the inside had become irresistible. I slid my arms around his neck.
“Where have you been all my life?”
He pulled me closer. “I can say the same.”
