The rhythm of his breath played against the rhythm of her heart. She counted his inhales and exhales, basking in the warmth of his body surrounding hers. The terror receded, though she couldn’t quite understand its genesis, and she became aware of his fingers running through her hair.
“James?”
His fingers stilled. “Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“Of course.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “But, just so I’m clear, why are you thanking me?”
Ellie untangled herself and flipped over. Moonlight spilled through the windows facing the ocean and bathed the angles of his face in silver and shadow. “For being willing to help me. For holding me when I was about to come undone.”
“And you’re done coming undone?” Even in the dark, she could make out the wicked glimmer of humor in his eyes.
“I seem to have gotten myself re-done. I am no longer undone or in danger of any kind of un-done-ing. Of any sort.”
James propped his elbow on the pillow and rested his head in his hand. “You’re accepting my help? I’ll give you the first installment of money tomorrow after work. If you prefer working at the counter instead of being in the kitchen, then we’ll figure out how to best utilize me at Good Beginnings. Wherever you need me, I’m happy to step in.”
Ellie started to protest, her pride working her mouth even though every ounce of her begged for the relief of having him at her side, propping her up when she was teetering on the edge.
James put a finger to her lips and shushed her. “You’re going to accept my help.” He smiled. “I’ll be offended if you don’t. Besides, it’ll be good for me to have a purpose. Might even help get me out of this funk I’ve been in.”
How did he know exactly what to say? How did he know the two buttons to push to send her over? Of course she didn’t want to offend him and of course she wanted to help him.
She swallowed and her throat tightened around the words she wanted to say. “I don’t take help easily—”
James lifted his eyebrow. “You don’t say.”
“Okay, smartass. You want to hear what I have to say or don’t you?” Ellie gave him her best stern look, but the chagrined little boy face James put on made it impossible not to smile.
“I’m sorry, Ellie. Please continue.”
“I do better on my own. Every time I let someone in, they let me down. For as long as I can remember. I’m sure there are people out there who wouldn’t. I’m sure it’s just my crazy luck that I keep stumbling across the wrong people, but I decided a long time ago—during Traumatic Foster Family Number Four to be exact—that I’m better off doing things alone.”
She took a breath and waited for James to speak, but he stayed silent. The look in his eyes melted her heart and brought tears back to the surface again. Compassion lit his face and made it even more beautiful than normal, and sitting in the moonlit bedroom, with him looking at her like that, Ellie was pure emotion. Her defenses were down and she felt naked in front of him.
“Anyway,” she continued, voice quaking. “I’d love your help at the café. I’m not very good with the accounting. I’m not bad, but the books stress me the hell out. And I don’t know how I’m going to find a new weekend cook, so I’d love you around while I figure out how to make it all work.” A smile broke across his face and she looked away. “But the money? James, I can’t let you do that.”
He put a finger to her chin and lifted her face until she made eye contact with him. “It’s been decided.” She shook her head and tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her. “I have more than I need. More than I deserve. I choose to give some to you. Please don’t fight me on this.”
And for whatever reason, she didn’t. Maybe she was out of fight. Maybe she had opened her walls and let him in and didn’t want to close him out again. Maybe it was the look in his eyes or the feel of his skin on hers as he ran his thumb against her lips. Maybe it was a combination of all those things.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
She became overly aware of her heart clamoring in her chest, her breath tearing through her parted lips. The rustle of the ocean lapping against the beach. The scent of James’ skin, so close to hers. His lips, parting. His breath rustling in her hair.
His thumb traced her lips again and her tongue darted out to taste him. His sharp intake of breath sent a jolt of electricity through her veins, ignited her body in a surge of heat. She pulled his thumb into her mouth, sucked on it, and looked up at him through her eyelashes. His chest heaved and his eyes grew hungry and heavy with passion.
He shifted, pulling his thumb from her mouth and pressing his lips to hers. He kissed her softly, gently, as if he was afraid to move quickly, afraid to scare her away. His hands smoothed over her hair, traced her jaw and came to rest on her cheeks. She opened to him, parting her lips and wrapping a leg around him, threading her fingers in his hair and returning his kiss with a passion she wasn’t prepared for.
She needed him.
Needed his skin pressed to hers.
Needed him to fill her.
To protect her.
She’d shown herself to him, been weak for him, and now she needed him to prove he still wanted her. To prove she was safe in her vulnerability.
She ran her hands under his shirt. “I love how strong you are,” she whispered against his lips as her fingers explored the ridges of his abs, the swell of his pecs.
He nuzzled her neck, kissing down
