Page 45 of Hold Me Tight

Not in any way that counts.

And yet, here he is. Doing what the man who should have never questioned it, wouldn’t, without hesitation or complaints.

Unable to help myself, I watch them in silence, the ache growing heavier with every heartbeat. For a moment, all I can do is press a hand to my sternum and wonder how I’m supposed to keep him out when he’s already found a way in.

My gaze drifts over him.

In sleep, he looks softer.

Younger.

More vulnerable.

And still so devastatingly handsome it’s almost unfair. It’s not just his face or the sharp cut of his jaw, or the annoyingly long lashes most women would kill for.

I don’t realize I’ve crossed the room until I’m standing in front of him, close enough to feel the heat of his skin. My fingers twitch with the urge to touch his face, to trace the curve of his cheekbone or the sleepy smile tugging at his mouth.

But I stop myself just in time, and curl my hand into a fist at my side.

Letting River in any further would be all too easy.

And much too dangerous.

Somehow, I already know that if I let myself fall for him, there won’t be a cushion to catch me. There’ll be a crash I won’t be able to walk away from.

His lashes flutter and his eyes open before finding mine. A drowsy smile curves his lips. Almost as if seeing me here, first thing in the morning, is the best part of his day.

A rush of warmth floods through me.

It’s like I’m sixteen all over again and hopelessly out of my depth.

I force myself to move, gently scooping Nora into my arms. She stirs only slightly, giving a sleepy sigh before tucking herself against me.

“You should’ve woken me,” I whisper, focusing my attention on my daughter even as I feel his gaze burning into me. “She’s my responsibility. I should be the one to take care of her.”

River stretches, the movement slow and lazy as his arms lift above his head. “You were out cold and she was upset,” he says, words still husky with sleep. “I figured I could handle it.” His steady gaze returns to mine. “And I told you that while you’re here, she can be our responsibility.”

Our.

That one small word punches right through my ribs.

It doesn’t hurt because I’m offended.

It hurts because I want it.

More than I want to admit.

Even to myself.

I clutch Nora tighter, like maybe if I hold her close enough, she won’t hear that word and get the wrong idea.

As if I haven’t already gotten it myself.

He’s making this feel too easy.

Too safe.

Too right.