“That’s what I want to hear,” he brushes a kiss against my forehead. “I want to keep learning everything you like.”
“I like this too,” I admit.
“This?”
My fingers move over his chest. “The way you hold me after.”
He studies me and brushes a strand of hair away from my face. “I’d hold you all night if you let me.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“Get comfortable, sweetness. I’m never letting you go.”
Rasmus gets out of the bed and soon returns with a damp washcloth. With gentle movements, he touches me, cleaning the evidence of our lovemaking. When he finishes, he tosses the cloth in the laundry basket and pulls me flush against him once again.
His body is many things, but only one adjective to describe it runs through my mind as we lie there in silence: safe.
And that scares me.
33
WHY IS IT ALWAYS ONE STEP FORWARD, TWO STEPS BACK WITH YOU?
HAISLEY
Yesterday’s events keep looping through my head, a relentless reel of emotions I can’t ignore. It reminds me of that very first morning in October when I woke up next to him. I remember wanting to see his face in the daylight and get to know him beyond the dark thrill of the night. Even then, when I barely knew anything about him, when he was still a stranger with a mask, I feltit. How well we fit together. How easy it was for him to make me feel beautiful, wanted, and cherished. How natural it was to be wrapped in his arms all night long.
And that’s the problem, isn’t it? I go back and forth, and maybe I’m driving myself mad over this, but I really don’t know how to feel about everything.
One part of me is falling for him. Harder than I’ve ever experienced in the past. Harder than I should. There’s a small, cautious part of me pumping the brakes, holding me back as I start leaning in, ready to let gravity take me. That part whispers in the quietness, asking me all the tough questions.
What if I’m reading too much into this?
What if he only wants me because of the baby?
What if I’ll eventually ruin everything between us?
I should have thought this through before I slept with him…again.
That’s the thing, though. I overthink, analyze, and second-guess every little thing. He lives in the moment and trusts his instincts most of the time. He doesn’t show hesitation if he cares about something or someone.
And boy, does he care.
Rasmus isn’t just fun and passionate. He’s also steady and unwavering in his support. He cares with his whole heart, even if he sometimes tries to hide it and pretends he doesn’t. But I know better by now. And maybe it’s how he embraces change and owns his responsibilities instead of shying away from them, but I’ve respected the hell out of him from the beginning.
So why is it so damn hard to let him in fully? Why do I keep thinking these things repeatedly, sabotaging something that feels so real? It’s also so damn unfair how comforting the scent of him, all warm and woodsy, is. It lingers on my skin, hair, and pillow under my cheek.
Frustrated with my thoughts, I push the sheets off and get out of bed. The cool air against my naked skin makes me shiver and I grab his bathrobe. It’s big on me, the sleeves swallowing my hands, but I tie it tightly around my waist.
I breathe in the familiar scent once more. Even when I’m trying to push him away, I still seek him out.
The realization settles deep in my stomach as I make my waytoward the kitchen. There’s still a twinge of pain with each step, but my ankle is much better
But now, only a few weeks later, everything between us no longer feels fleeting. It’s so much more. And that’s what scares me and my scattered mind.
Rasmus is already in the kitchen, standing by the coffee maker. His back is to me, his broad shoulders relaxed as he bops along to the ABBA song playing. They’re singing about not wasting your emotions.How fitting.
Without glancing over, he reaches for two mugs. The simple gesture twists something sharp in my chest.
