Page 116 of The Merger

“I told my father that I deserve better,” she says. “That I deserve respect and love.”

My chest rises and falls against her palm laying over my heart. I’m not sure where she’s going with this, but I don’t want to get my hopes too high. I don’t want to scare her … or myself.

“That’s good,” I say. “Because you’re exactly right.”

“I told him I just learned this from someone who made me feel safe and happy.”

I clear my throat. “You did?”

She nods, grinning nervously. “Maybe not in those exact words, but that was the sentiment.”

“Well, I’m very happy someone makes you feel that way.”

“Me, too. He’s certainly set the bar for how a man is supposed to treat a woman.”

I swallow a wave of emotion. “Come here.”

She falls into my arms, and I capture her mouth with mine. Instead of being fueled by lust, our kisses are fueled by something else. Something greater. A different four-letter word that we’re both afraid to say.

Her lips mold to mine, parting to give me space to explore her with my tongue. We stand under the water and speak without words. But sometimes words aren’t necessary.

I hold her cheeks, brushing my thumbs across her smooth skin, and give her one long, lingering, final kiss. Then I turn the shower off and grab us towels.

“What do you say we dry off and go home,” I say, wrapping her up in a giant pink towel.

“I need to pack a bag first. I don’t have anything clean left at your house.”

This is ridiculous—the going back and forth between our residences. But I can’t broach that subject yet either. One thing at a time. It will all happen when the time is right.

I twist a towel around my waist and toss another one her way for her hair.

“Want me to grab some things for you?” I ask.

“Sure. My bag is in my bedroom on my bed. Just some T-shirts and jeans. Socks. A few lingerie sets.”

I grin. “No problem.”

She squeezes the water out of her hair and watches me curiously.

I leave her in the bathroom and move around the corner into her bedroom. Her bag is on her bed, but instead of grabbing it, I open her closet and pull out a suitcase.

“Can you put a pair of sneakers in there, too? The gray and white ones,” she yells.

“Sure.”

I smirk as I empty the contents of her lingerie drawer into the suitcase, and then add in two drawers of T-shirts and all the jeans stacked on a shelf. I toss in some socks and the shoes she requested before I start zipping it closed.

“Gannon, what the heck are you doing?”

I stop mid-zip and look up. She’s watching me from the doorway, amused.

“That’s not my bag.”

“Nope. It’s your suitcase.” I drag it off the bed. It hits the floor with a thud. “It’s heavy. I’ll carry it out for you.”

“Gannon …”

I shrug. “I can’t sleep without you.”