Page 39 of Hold Me Tight

I don’t hesitate.

“This,” I say, pressing my forehead to hers, “is everything I’ve ever wanted. You. Nora. This life.”

She swallows hard. “I don’t believe you.”

Even though I’m disappointed by the response, I’m not surprised.

A slow nod follows as I continue to hold her face. “That’s okay. You don’t have to. Not yet. Zane did a number on you, and I get that. Just know I’m going to prove it every single day until the only thing you believe is me.”

Her eyes shine with unshed tears, but she doesn’t pull away.

It’s a small thing, her staying still and letting me in even just this tiny bit.

But right now, it feels like everything.

17

Callie

“I see you, Callie. I see everything you are. Everything you’ve built. Everything you carry. And I want it. All of it.”

As much as I want to believe him, I just… don’t.

Can’t.

The thought of opening myself up to the same kind of pain as before is too scary. I’m not even sure this living arrangement will survive a week.

Two, tops.

This man has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.

From the corner of my eye, I watch as River strips down to his boxer briefs like it’s routine and we’ve been doing this for years. All the fangirling on Railers Rumors about River Thompson being one of the sexiest hockey players in the league is one hundred percent accurate. The guy has more in common with a Greek statue than a flesh and blood man.

As much as I don’t want to be totally entranced by the sight of him, I am.

At this very moment, I’m having a difficult time ripping my attention away. My gaze drags across the broad line of his shoulders, the sculpted muscles of his chest before sliding over the deep ridges of his washboard abs. And then there are the tattoos. But it’s the sharp cut of muscle just above the waistband of his boxer briefs that melts my brain.

I have no business looking that low, and yet… here we are.

It’s official.

I’m way in over my head.

When I’m finally able to shake myself out of my River Thompson induced trance, I snatch my duffel bag off the floor and flee to the en suite bathroom to clear my thoughts.

It’s the best option.

The only one available to me.

The second I step inside the massive bathroom, I come to an abrupt stop, momentarily stunned by the sheer luxury of it all. Like the kitchen, the walls are a rich charcoal gray that somehow feels both sleek and soothing. The color perfectly complements the gleaming white marble floors laced with subtle gray veining. Chrome fixtures catch the muted ambient lighting, casting a quiet elegance over the entire space.

A freestanding soaking tub sits beside a floor-to-ceiling window that frames a spectacular panoramic view of the city skyline. It’s the kind you only see in luxury hotel ads or dream real estate listings. Across from it, a deep mahogany vanity stretches along one wall, topped with a matching marble counter, and outfitted with double sinks. The open shelving beneath holds neatly folded towels that practically beg to be wrapped around bare skin.

I trail my fingers along the polished stone, taking it all in with wide eyes before they land on the glass-enclosed shower at the far end of the room. The bathroom is easily bigger than my entire living room.

Probably twice the size.

And just like that, I’m already imagining the feel of warm water pouring over me, the steam curling around my body as I let myself unwind, even if only for a few minutes. I’d be crazy not to take full advantage of the spa-like features while I can. In a week or two, this won’t be my reality.