Page 26 of Love Loathe Devotion (Tightrope #3)

She’s curled into my side, wearing one of my old flannel shirts like it was made for her, and I swear there’s something about this moment—this quietness—that makes me want to bottle it.

Her fingers trail gently across my chest, not really drawing anything, just being there, like she’s grounding herself in the shape of me.

I ask, “So… how was coffee with Sam? She interrogate you?”

Laney laughs, soft and fond. “Oh yeah. Full cross-examination. She’s got a talent for it.”

I smile. “She always been like that?”

She shakes her head. “Actually, we haven’t even known each other that long. We met a few years back. I’d just started volunteering on the pediatric ward… and Joey was a patient.”

My chest tightens immediately. Joey.

Lucas told me everything—the appointments, the long nights, the complications.

The fact that this tiny, stubborn kid has been fighting for years and still needs a new kidney.

A match. And time? It’s not exactly on their side.

I lived every second with my best friend even when I wasn’t physically here with them.

“Yeah,” I say quietly. “It’s been a hell of a road for them.”

Laney nods. “He’s still fighting. Every day. Dialysis is brutal on him now, it’s wearing him out. His energy dips faster than it used to. Sam tries to stay upbeat for him, but… I see it. The fear, the exhaustion. It’s right under the surface.”

I feel her body sink a little deeper into mine, like she’s holding the weight of it, and I instinctively wrap my arm tighter around her waist.

“That’s why I’m so glad we’re doing this thing,” she adds. “The kidney chain. Awareness. Trying to find potential donors—anyone who might be a match, even if it’s not directly for Joey. A chain could get him what he needs. It’s a long shot, but…”

“It’s not a long shot,” I cut in, my voice steady. “It’s a plan. And it’s happening. We’re gonna make damn sure it does.”

She glances up at me, and the way she’s looking at me—it’s not just affection. It’s trust. Something raw and real and earned.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

“You don’t have to thank me for caring about that kid,” I say, brushing a strand of damp hair from her cheek. “Or for wanting to help. You’d do the same thing. Hell, you’re already doing more than half the work.”

She lets out a soft breath that’s half a laugh.

“Sam found me crying in a supply closet once,” she says suddenly.

“Over a kid we lost. I thought she’d just ignore me, but she handed me a granola bar and said, ‘Come cry in the break room like a proper adult. It has coffee and walls that don’t echo’. She was a lifesaver.”

I can’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, that sounds exactly like her.”

Laney smiles, her eyes misty but steady. “She became my person after that. And Joey—he carved out his own place in my heart before I even knew it was happening.”

I press a kiss to her temple, her skin still warm from our earlier closeness. “You’re one of the good ones, Laney.”

Her eyes meet mine and, for a second, we just look. No words, no noise, just that mutual understanding that this thing between us is already more than either of us expected.

“We’ll get him what he needs,” I say quietly. “Whatever it takes.”

And I mean it. Because Joey’s not just Sam and Lucas’ kid. He’s ours now too, because we love him.

She doesn’t say anything right away. Just leans in, slow, deliberate, her gaze flicking between my eyes and my mouth like she’s asking permission even though we’re already past that.

I meet her halfway, brushing my lips over hers once, soft, slow. She exhales into me like she’s been holding her breath all day.

Her hand slides up my chest, fingertips tracing my collarbone, then curling around the back of my neck. I deepen the kiss, pulling her closer, shifting so she’s half in my lap. Her thighs straddle mine, the flannel shirt falling open just enough to reveal a sliver of warm, bare skin.

Goddamn.

Kissing her feels like coming up for air after holding my breath too long—intense and slow and necessary. I slide my hands beneath the fabric, feeling the heat of her back, the soft curve of her waist. She sighs against my lips, her body melting into mine like we were sculpted to fit together.

I nip at her lower lip and she lets out the softest sound, almost a whimper, and it damn near undoes me.

“I could kiss you for hours,” I murmur against her mouth.

“Then maybe you should,” she whispers back, breath hitching as I trail my lips down her jaw, her throat, kissing the pulse point that beats fast beneath her skin.

I press my palm flat against her lower back, grounding us both as she leans into me, head tilted, her fingers threading through my hair. Her body rocks against mine just enough to stoke the fire simmering between us.

And just when it starts to slip into something deeper—something hungrier—her phone buzzes sharply against the coffee table.

We both freeze.

She leans back just enough to glance at the screen.

Her body goes still.

Randy.

I see the name flash across the screen before she flips the phone face-down and lets out a slow breath.

I try to keep my voice even. “He’s been calling you?”

“A few times,” she says quietly. “I haven’t answered.”

I sit up a little, my hand still resting at the small of her back, my thumb moving in slow circles. “Is he bothering you? Like—really bothering you?”

Her eyes meet mine. “Not exactly. He’s just… persistent. But I’m not letting him back in, Eddie. I’m not even tempted.”

That should soothe me. And it does, mostly. But something inside me still knots at the thought of him intruding on her peace. On this. On us.

I shake my head. “I swear to God, if I ever see that asshole again—”

She laughs, cutting me off with a kiss. “You don’t have to kick his ass.”

“I want to.”

“You don’t need to.”

“I still want to,” I growl, and she laughs again, softer this time, but her eyes are warm. She presses her forehead to mine.

“You getting protective on me?” she teases.

“Damn right I am.”

Her expression shifts just slightly, a softness creeping in. “I like it.”

I pull back just enough to look at her. “Yeah?”

She nods. “It doesn’t feel possessive. Just… safe.”

That lands hard in my chest. Like she just gave me something I didn’t even know I needed to hear.

I cup her face with both hands and kiss her again, slower this time. Deeper. She melts into me like we’ve got nowhere else to be, nothing else that matters but this.

And right now, she’s right.

Her lips are on mine again, warm and soft and utterly addictive. She shifts in my lap, grinding down ever so slightly and—fuck—I groan into her mouth as heat punches through me like a wave.

I’ve been trying to keep it slow. Gentle. Thoughtful.

But the way she moves against me, the way she tastes, the way she looks at me like I’m the only thing in her world—I lose it.

I stand in one smooth motion, taking her with me, her legs instinctively wrapping around my waist, arms clinging to my shoulders.

She gasps, half-surprised, half-laughing, but I don’t stop kissing her.

I carry her down the hallway, our mouths fused, her fingers tugging at my hair like she can’t get me close enough.

By the time we reach the bedroom, I’m desperate.

I lay her down on the bed but she pulls me with her, rolling us until I’m under her, her thighs straddling my hips again, her lips tracing down my jaw, sucking lightly at my neck.

“Laney,” I groan, my hands gripping her hips, sliding beneath the soft cotton of my flannel shirt that she’s still wearing—barely.

She sits up, straddling me, eyes dark with heat, cheeks flushed, breathing fast.

“Off,” she says simply, tugging at the hem of the shirt. “I need skin.”

I help her strip it off in a rush, tossing it somewhere—anywhere—and my hands are already on her, sliding up her sides, over her breasts, worshipping every inch.

Her nails rake across my chest down to the waistband of my jeans, and she’s fumbling with the button as I sit up and crush my mouth to hers again, wild and open and hungry.

Clothes come off fast, like they’re in our way—my shirt, her panties, my jeans—ripped, yanked, discarded without ceremony.

Her laugh mixes with my groan when I almost fall off the bed trying to kick my pants the rest of the way off, but then she’s on top of me again and there’s nothing funny anymore—just heat. Need.

I flip her beneath me, covering her with my body, kissing down her chest, over her stomach, dragging my teeth gently across her hip just to feel her shiver.

She’s gasping, writhing, her legs wrapping tight around me as I settle between them. Every brush of skin is electric. Every sound she makes goes straight to my core.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” I whisper against her collarbone. “How bad I want you. You’re all I can think about, you make me want to lose control.”

Her fingers cup my jaw, pulling me back to her mouth, and when she speaks, it’s a breathless confession against my lips.

“Then take me. No more holding back, Eddie, I want all of you.”

That’s all I need.

She pulls me back down with a force that knocks the breath from my lungs—not just because of how her mouth finds mine, but because of the way she looks at me. Like she wants everything. Like she can take everything I’ve been holding back.

And suddenly I can’t hold it back anymore.

“Laney,” I rasp, my voice low, rougher now, right against her lips. “If we do this… if I let go the way I want to… I need to know you’re good with it.”

She blinks up at me, breath heaving, cheeks flushed, her legs still locked around my hips. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I want to pin you down,” I say, dragging my hand up her thigh slowly, purposefully. “I want to take control. I want to own every sound you make. But only if you want that too.”

Her breath catches, her eyes open wide—not scared, not uncertain. Aroused. Her lips part and she nods slowly, then says, “I want that. I want you. All of you.”

That’s all I need.