Page 42 of The Rose and the Hound (Ashes and Roses #2)

We lay side by side for a while, not talking, just breathing together.

The room was dim, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside casting faint amber across the wall.

I traced my finger along his forearm, memorizing the feel of him.

He had that prominent forearm vein thing happening, which for reasons unknown had many women swooning.

“You ever think about the future?” he asked suddenly.

I let out a quiet laugh. “Lately, I’ve been too busy trying to survive the present.”

“I mean our future,” he said, and the weight of his words made me still.

I turned my face up so I could see his more clearly. “I don’t know. That depends on a lot of things.”

“Like?”

“Like whether you can handle me at my worst.”

He tightened his hold just slightly. “Zahra, I’m here for all parts of you. And you work so hard, I know you’ll never go back there. If you do, I’ll be here to pull you back.”

The way he said it, no hesitation, no doubt, warmed me in a way that was almost frightening. I’d built so many walls to keep people out. With him, they felt paper-thin. He felt me stiffen and pulled me closer.

“Stop thinking Zahra, or I’ll have to stop you thinking in other ways.”

For so long I had doubted men’s intentions and lived with the gnawing suspicion that I was nothing more than a diversion, a conquest, a secret shame.

But this? This felt different. He hadn’t touched me with the detached hunger of someone taking what they could, like Dean and so many men since him had.

He’d held me like I was wanted, not used.

He chased me and declared his feelings for me.

He let the world see him wanting me. He didn’t call me for sex late at night and kick me out straight after.

He wasn’t sleeping with me to kill time while he waited for his version of Rebecca to come so he could dump me.

In fact, I suspected if I tried to leave that night, he’d have somehow restrained me.

For the first time in my life, I felt a startling kind of safety in being desired.

It wasn’t just my body he craved. He wanted me, even the sicker parts of me.

The knowledge swelled in my chest like something I’d never let myself believe: I mattered.

To him, I mattered. And that realization was both terrifying and beautiful.

Eventually, I tucked myself against him again, my eyes drifting shut. I didn’t know where we’d go from here, and I wouldn’t cling to him or beg him for any promises. For tonight, I let myself believe in the possibility of something lasting.

And Hound—Hound just held me like he’d never let go, and I snuggled further and further into his warmth and strength.