Page 76 of Hold Me Tight

“Is a dildo,” I supply helpfully.

Her gaze snaps to mine. “It’s pink.”

“I was told aesthetics matter.”

She lifts it, turning the phallic-shaped toy in her hand, like she’s trying to figure out if it came with an instruction manual. “It’s, um… big.”

“I think it’ll fit perfectly.”

She lets out a slow exhale. Then, with a slightly shaky laugh, she reaches into the bag and pulls out the final item—a bottle of lube.

Her brows shoot up again. “Wow. You really thought of everything.”

“When it comes to your pleasure, I’m nothing if not thorough,” I tell her, my eyes locked on the way her lips twitch, like she’s fighting back a smile. “Sure, I could’ve added a couple more items, but I wanted this to feel simple. Easy. Something that wouldn’t overwhelm you. Something you could explore, enjoy, and get comfortable with on your own terms and at your own pace.”

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “I appreciate it more than you know.”

“You’re worth it, Callie. You deserve to take time out for yourself. To feel desired, wanted, and cherished.”

Her gaze lifts to mine, and this time she doesn’t look away. She searches my face like she’s trying to spot the warning signs or figure out what the catch is.

But there isn’t one.

There never has been.

Not with me.

“You’re making it nearly impossible to keep my guard up.”

“Good.” I reach for her hand, threading my fingers through hers before lifting it to my lips and brushing a kiss against them. “You don’t need it with me. Not now. Not ever.”

She buries her face in the crook of my neck as we sit in silence. Our breaths fall into the same quiet rhythm as her body slowly softens into mine.

I press a kiss to her temple. “When you’re ready, I’ll show you how everything works. But only if you want me to.”

Even though she doesn’t answer right away, her fingers curl into my shirt, like she’s thinking about finally letting someone in.

And I’ll be right here waiting when she does.

29

Callie

No man has ever treated me the way River does.

Certainly not Zane.

Not even back when things were good, when I thought love meant compromise and quiet resignation, did he ever truly put me first.

It’s hard to explain what that realization does to me. How it hits low and deep, unraveling something I hadn’t even realized was wound tight. Like a knot I’d been carrying in my chest for years, too used to the pressure to even notice it was there.

Until River.

What I now understand is that River isn’t just kind in the big, sweeping, movie-scene ways.

He’s kind in the quiet and thoughtful ones.

The ones no one else sees.