Page 74 of Hold Me Tight

“You were jealous.” The slow smile spreading across his face turns into more of a delighted grin.

“No, I wasn’t.” My cheeks feel like they’re on fire. “It was more of an observation.”

“Oh, you were definitely jelly,” he murmurs, a wicked glint igniting in his eyes as he steps closer. “Lucky for you, I think it’s sexy as hell.”

I open my mouth to deny it before slamming it shut again.

The man is right.

I was jealous.

River swallows up the gap between us with a few sure strides before slipping a finger beneath my chin and guiding my face upward until my eyes can lock on his. “By now, you should know there’s nothing for you to worry about. There’s only one woman I want… and she just so happens to be standing right in front of me.”

My heart flipflops.

His hand falls away. Then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he retraces his steps and leans down, scooping Nora into his arms before heading for the door.

“Hey!” I call out after him once I’m able to wrap my lips around words. “You need to stop buying her so many toys!”

He glances over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at his mouth as amusement flickers in his eyes. “Oh, she’s not the only one I bought toys for.”

I blink. “Excuse me?”

Instead of answering, he disappears around the corner with Nora giggling in his arms, leaving me rooted in place, pulse tripping over itself.

“What does that mean?” I call after him.

But there’s no reply.

Just the sound of his low laughter mixing with Nora’s delighted squeals. And for some reason, it settles deep inside me, locking into place like it was always meant to be there.

28

River

Nora has been sacked out for fifteen minutes now. She was so tired that she didn’t even put up a fight at bedtime. She just melted against my chest and whispered something about Gaffy before drifting right off.

I couldn’t help but stare down at her peaceful little form for a handful of minutes before returning to the bedroom. In the middle of the mattress sits a small black bag.

It’s unassuming.

There aren’t any ribbons or flashy packaging to disclose what it is or where it came from.

And yet, it’s making me sweat. I scrub a hand over the back of my neck and rethink my decision for the dozenth time.

What if I misread the situation?

What if she thinks this crosses a line?

What if it sends her running?

After gradually chipping away at her walls and earning her trust, that would gut me.

This isn’t some kind of move, and it’s not about sex.

Hell, it’s not even about me.

It’s about her.