Relief surged, the jolt so strong it nearly sent him to his knees. It’s not over between us. Even after everything we’ve seen in such a short fucking time, it hasn’t ruined the possibility of a future together. “I’d like that.” He reached over and scooped her into his lap. The sensation of having Samara in his arms soaked into him one heartbeat at a time. Her mass of dark hair pressed against the side of his face, soft and smelling of lavender. The subtle strength of her arms where they were wrapped around him, holding him as tightly as he held her.
Home.
Samara felt like home.
Beckett rested his chin on the top of her head. “Movie or bed?”
She tensed, but it barely lasted a single breath. “Bed.”
It felt strange to walk hand in hand to her bedroom. She dug around under her sink and came up with a spare toothbrush. He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. It struck Beckett that this could be his life—brushing his teeth next to Samara every night. Watching her wash off her makeup and strip off her armor as she got ready for bed. Knowing that he’d be able to hold her for hours without having to worry that one of them needed to leave.
Beckett unzipped her dress, his gaze glued to the long slice of bare skin revealed as the black fabric parted. His hands shook with the need to follow the path, to drag his thumbs over the lean muscles lining her back, to find the dimples on either side of the bottom of her spine.
Tonight is supposed to be about comfort. Not sex.
He stepped back before he could do something to damage the fragile balance tonight required. He walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom before he could come up with a bullshit reason to stay and watch her finish undressing. It didn’t help calm his suddenly racing heart. The bed invited him to imagine her laid out there, naked and beckoning him to join her. The closet was filled with bright dresses that had him remembering what was like to press her against that door and go to his knees before her, or how tempting she’d been when she rode him in his office. Control is overrated.
He should have stayed out of the damn bathroom until he could be sure Samara was covered again, but the sound of the shower running was too much of a temptation to ignore.
She stood with her face tilted up to the spray of water, something resembling peace in her expression. The shower was the only sign of extravagance in the condo. It was a good six feet with varying grayscale tiles and three shower heads—two normal and a sunflower one in the center. Samara had all three going, and with her brown skin slicked with water and the steam twisting through the enclosed space, she looked like some kind of divine creature who’d wandered into this place by mistake. The sight hit him right in the gut, even stronger than before. I want this.
Her. Us. The dinners and the comfort and the sex and the conversations. A future together.
I want it all.
She smoothed back her hair and turned to look at him. “I changed my mind.”
He forced his body still, using every ounce of his control not to take a single step toward her. “This isn’t about sex. Or the shit we’re dealing with both tomorrow and in the future. This is about us. I’m not here because I had nowhere else to go. I’m here because you’re here.”
“I know.” She pressed her hand to the glass. “Shower with me, Beckett.” Her wicked grin had his cock rising to attention. “You look like the best kind of dirty.”
He could no more resist her than he could make the sun rise in the west. Beckett shucked off his pants and stalked to the shower, never taking his gaze from hers. She stepped back as he walked into the shower, and the appreciation he found on her face warmed him even more than the steam, chasing away the last bits of numbness clinging to him like cobwebs.
The water was a temperature just shy of scalding. Beckett rolled his shoulders and ducked his head under the spray. When he opened his eyes again, Samara was right in front of him. She slid her hands over his chest, pausing at his scar. “You’re not alone, Beckett. Not anymore.”
He wasn’t alone because she was there. Because she might…keep being there. Longing nearly took him to his knees. “Samara, I—”
She kissed him as if she knew how close he was to saying something neither of them could take back. It was soft and bittersweet, and it made his chest ache all the way down to his soul. He laced his fingers through her thick hair and tilted her head back, the angle allowing him a slow exploration.
He licked down the long line of her neck and nipped the sensitive spot where it met her shoulder. Not enough. Never enough. He guided her to lean against the cool tile and cupped her breasts. “If I live to be a hundred, I’ll never get enough of you.”
“I’m familiar with the feeling.” She arched into his touch, her eyes half closed.
Let me keep you.
He ducked his head and captured one of her dark nipples in his mouth. Too many things left unsaid between them. Too much uncertainty in their future. Tonight, they could use touch to comfort each other, to convey all the things they weren’t ready to put into words. Beckett ruthlessly smothered the desire to claim her in every way that counted. “Let me take you to bed,” he breathed against her skin. Let me show you all the things we aren’t allowed to say.
She tugged him up and kissed him hard. Samara’s cinnamon taste teased him as
