Page 117 of The Merger

“And you think that warrants taking everything I own to your house?”

“No. You still have some stuff here.”

Slowly, she smiles. “You’re a menace.”

“No. I just know what I want. And if I didn’t think it’s what you also wanted, I wouldn’t do it.” I take her hand and lace our fingers together. “All you have to do is say no. It won’t change anything. And,for the love of God, don’t bring up Tate.”

She giggles. “You have to do one thing first.”

“Name it.”

Her towel falls slowly to the floor, revealing her naked body inch by beautiful inch.

My cock presses against the towel at my waist, creating a tent between my legs.

She goes to her bed and crawls across the mattress. Lying on her back with her knees bent, she motions for me to follow.

The look in her eyes is different than I’ve ever seen it—more vulnerable and less guarded. Maybe I’ve gotten through to her. Perhaps she understands what I’ve been trying to show her.

If not, I’ll keep trying. I’ll never give up.

I drop my towel and climb onto the bed, moving so I’m hovering over her.

Her eyes sparkle as she strokes my jawline. “Gentle, please.”

I should stop and get a condom. I should use my fucking head. But her request is my demand. I’ll never tell her no. I’ll never make her wait.

My cock sinks into her nice and slow, growing harder as her soft moans dance between us.

This feels a whole lot like making love.

And it feels exactly right.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Carys

Thunder shakes the house as rain pelts the glass. Tree limbs sway outside Gannon’s bedroom window. It’s been a day of storms across Tennessee.

It’s the perfect day to stay in bed and read.

I set Gannon’s copy of Love Hurts next to me, my heart breaking over Deacon and Frankie’s story. It’s so beautiful, so tragic, and so utterly intoxicating. It’s the kind of love every girl dreams about finding for herself.

My gaze flutters to the doorway.

The kind of love that I hope I’ve found for myself.

“Do you want a drink?” Gannon shouts from downstairs.

“No. I’m good.”

“I’ll be up in a minute. Just going to fire off a couple more emails.”

“I’m cuddled up in here with your book. Take your time.”

His footsteps fall fainter until they’re no longer audible.

My stomach churns from the grilled cheese Gannon made me a few hours ago. Most of my clients are sick with influenza, and one apparently shared it with me. Gannon acts like I’m coming down with something life-threatening and has babied me since I got home from work yesterday. He was supposed to go into the office for a Saturday teleconference this morning, but called it off to stay home with me.