How must it feel to be so traumatized that you can’t let yourself be loved? And his dad is sick too . . .

I feel so sad for him.

I push the hair back from his forehead and kiss him softly.

How is it possible that tonight my attachment to him is deeper than ever?

Is this what it feels like?

Where nothing else matters, and to hell with the consequences. Because there are consequences for being with Henley. I know that.

I’m twenty-seven years old, and at a time when I want to relax into a drama-free and easy relationship, I know this will be anything but. How could it not be? He’s never had a girlfriend, much less a serious relationship, and these things take practice. Years and years of practice. I’m in for a rocky ride.

I lean up onto my elbow, and hope fills me as I smile over at him in the darkness. His dark hair, big eyelashes, and kissable pouty lips. Out of all the men I’ve ever met in my life, Henley James is the one I compare everyone else to.

He’s the set point.

The last few weeks have been a nightmare—for both of us, I now know.

But he’s here with me, revealing his vulnerability and declaring his love.

It’s weird. In reality, we hardly know each other, but our attraction is so deep that it’s cellular. It’s as if my body was always his, as if he was always meant to be mine. He has this special ingredient. Every whispered word, every touch means so much more than it should.

I let out a big yawn and know I need to get some sleep. I roll onto my side, facing away from him, and his hand comes out and pulls me back to be snug against his body, still asleep. He kisses my shoulder blade, and I feel his manhood against my behind, the warmth from his skin.

I smile into my pillow. I think maybe . . . it’s going to be okay.

Chapter 23

I wake to a familiar scent permeating my bedroom, and I frown. What is that?

Pancakes.

Huh? My eyes snap open. What’s happening right now? Has someone broken in to make me food?

I’ve never even woken up with Henley before, let alone had him cook me breakfast. I jump out of bed, throw on my robe, and go in search of my man.

I find him in the kitchen, standing over the frying pan, a tea towel slung over his shoulder as he concentrates. I lean against the doorjamb for a moment and watch him. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and pajama bottoms, and as he flips the pancakes I can see the muscles in his shoulders contract underneath his shirt.

So fucking hot.

He glances up, sees me, and gives me a slow sexy smile. “Good morning, my sweet Juliet.”

His sweet Juliet . . . has there ever been a more swoony good morning in the history of life?

I don’t think so.

I smile goofily. “Good morning, Henley.”

He walks over and puts the spatula down to my sex and flips air.

“What are you doing?” I laugh as I swat him away.

“Flipping my breakfast. What does it look like?”

“You want it done both sides?”

“Only the best are flipped both sides.” He smiles against my lips as he kisses me.

“What are you doing here, Mr. James?” We kiss again as his hands slide up underneath my robe.

“Putting in the effort.” He winks.

“Oh, breakfast is your effort?”

He bends me over backward. “Once you taste these pancakes . . . you’re never going to let me go.” He bites my neck, and I laugh and try to escape him.

Who said I was ever going to let you go?

“Behave.” He stands me up. “My pancakes are burning.” He goes back to flipping them over.

“I’ve got an idea,” I say as I watch him.

“What’s that?”

“Let’s go away and do a total reset. Relax into this new stage and each other properly without any outside noise.”

“I can’t.” He turns back to his pancake duties. “I have responsibilities here.”

“I’ll get Chloe to visit your dad every day to check on him.”

A frown flashes across his face as his eyes flick to me. “How do you . . .”

“I work a second job at the nursing home. I’ve met your father. He’s a lovely man.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me this?” he snaps.

“Henley, you haven’t spoken to me in six weeks,” I fire back. “When have I had the chance to tell you?”

He rolls his lips and thankfully holds his tongue because he knows I’m right.

He snakes his hand in under my bathrobe to hold my behind, and I look up at him. “Can we go away?” I whisper. “Just the two of us?”

“I . . .”

“You need a break,” I tell him. “You’ve never been away since your dad has been sick.”

“He needs me.”

“What he needs is for you to be happy and relaxed.”

He drags his hands through his hair as if conflicted.

“We could go somewhere hot—sun, sand, and the ocean.” I smile hopefully.

“Well, what about Barry?” he replies.

I smile, realizing he is close to giving in. “Chloe can watch Barry. She can come and stay with him. He loves her. We want to start again, and this could be the perfect opportunity to leave all our crap in the past.”

His eyes hold mine, and I know that he thinks it’s a good idea too. “I’ll think about it.”

“Okay.” I kiss him softly, my lips lingering over his. As we kiss his eyes close, too, and I know he feels every bit as lost to this as I am. And it’s there again, the crazy chemistry we have. It takes me over every time we’re alone.

“My body ached for you,” he murmurs against my lips. “You’re all I could think about.” Our kiss deepens. He turns off the griddle and sits down on a chair and pulls me over his lap. He begins to rock me over his body as we kiss.

“Let’s go back to bed,” he breathes.

“We have to eat.”

“We have to fuck,” he whispers. “I can’t get close enough to you.” He kisses me again. “I need more.”

Oh . . .

“How did I ever think I could live without this?” I murmur against his lips as he rocks me onto his body. He pulls himself out of his pajama pants and positions himself at my entrance and slowly slides in.

“Mm,” he moans softly as he grabs my hair in his hands, pulling me down onto him harder. “You feel so fucking good on my cock.”

An earth-moving shudder runs between us. Face to face, we stare at each other.

Rocking, kissing, aching for each other in a way that nobody else could understand.