My heart feels like it’s about to catapult from my chest, it’s hammering so violently. Becket stares down at me, and his words manage to weave themselves around the chasm in my chest, around the heart I’ve come to think of as a waste.

“You take my breath away.”

I reach for him, not knowing exactly what to say because I’ve never felt this way before. I press my body flush against his, my softer form contrasting to his harder, more muscled physique, and our mouths collide.

I attempt to pour everything into the kiss, the passion, the longing, how much I ached for him while he was away. How much I love how he cares for Daisy like a person, the way he cradled her close to his chest like a baby. The fact he actually admits to needing me astounds me—that this capable, strong, intelligent man needs me. He could have anyone at his beck and call if he wanted.

Instead, he simply wants me.

Our kiss, chock-full of emotion, is wilder, more carnal, and passionate. His lips slant over mine, his tongue sweeps inside, and it’s as though neither of us can taste deeply enough. I steer him back to the wide bench seat, and a whimper pulls free when we break apart for him to sit down.

He smirks up at me. “Still worried about my shoulder, huh?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off me while he wraps his large palm around his jutting cock. My lips part on a tiny moan while I watch him stroke his length. Finally, I drag my eyes from the tantalizing sight and meet his gaze.

“Of course.”

He tips his head back against the shower wall, his heavy-lidded gaze rapt on me, and his smirk is coy. “Be careful, Ivy. Might start thinking you care about me.”

Something in his tone pricks at me as if he’s not certain I care. I step closer and climb on him on the bench, straddling his hips, and brace my hands on the rough stone on either side of him. Languidly, I lower myself down, and he guides himself inside me while our eyes remain locked.

I drop tiny kisses along his forehead and his jawline while I ease down inch by inch. “I care, Becket.” I gently toy with his bottom lip between my teeth before I soothe it with my tongue. “I care more than you know.”

Something within him snaps, and his hands fly out to grip my hips. He pulls me down while he thrusts upward, burying himself deep. “Ivy,” he grits out. His voice is gravelly and hoarse with arousal as his grip tightens on my hips. I begin to ride him with aching slowness, using the wall as leverage. His fingers dig into my hips, and his head descends to fasten his lips around my nipple, suckling the hardened peak before laving it with his tongue.

A surge of wetness floods me, and my inner muscles clench at his arousing touch. He moves to my other nipple, paying it the same homage, and I quicken my movements, more frantic with need. “Becket,” I moan.

He releases my nipple from the delicious suction of his mouth and raises his head to look at me. The moment our eyes connect, he sees it. He understands what I need.

Removing his grip from one side of my hips, he slides his hand between us to press his thumb to my clit, and I instantly arch, shifting on his cock.

“Fuck.” The hoarse quality of his voice is a testament to his arousal. He continues to work my clit in circles, applying the perfect amount of pressure, while I ride him. “I love watching you like this.” His words are a tinge breathless. “So damn beautiful.” We both groan when his upward thrust hits just the right spot. “Love feeling you come...”

His thumb works me faster, and I tense, my toes curling, as I approach the precipice. “Becket, I’m close,” I whimper.

He responds by thrusting even harder while his thumb sends me over the edge and my inner muscles spasm and clench around his cock. I moan his name over and over while the waves of my release wash over me.

“Ivy,” he groans, thrusting feverishly before his body jerks, and he floods me with the warmth of his release.

Our harsh, labored breaths linger in the shower, and I remain limp on his lap, my forehead pressed against his shoulder. “We should probably move,” I mutter.

His slight chuckle vibrates beneath me. “Guess so.” He sounds as resigned as I do, but we both rise from the bench and rinse off once more before finishing our shower.

After we dry off, Becket checks on Daisy once more. He pulls on a pair of low-slung pajama pants that make me want to jump him all over again, but he looks exhausted. When he hands me a pair of cotton shorts with a tank top from one of “my” dresser drawers, I accept them and tug them on, and we brush our teeth before crawling into bed.

He turns off the small light and speaks quietly within the darkened bedroom. “You planning to sleep on your side like usual?”

I falter at his question. “What do you mean?”

He hesitates before finally answering. “You always fall asleep there before you move and snu…curl up against me, wrapping your arm around me.”

I physically jerk at his admission, at the word I know he was about to say. “I had no idea. I’m sorry.” Such an early riser by nature—and requirement, too—he’s always up before I am, so I had no way of knowing this.

“Ivy.” He shifts, turning to face me, the faint light of the moon sneaking through the blinds to partially illuminate his features. “No apology is necessary. I was only mentioning it just in case you felt like you had to fall asleep right there instead of beside me.” Then he lowers his voice, and it dips to something huskier. “I love when you curl up against me.”

I’m at a loss for words, for the right thing to say.

He reaches out to smooth a lock of damp hair back and tuck it behind my ear. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

“You didn’t.” I swallow hard. “I just…don’t really know what to say.”

Becket rises to lean over and press his lips to my forehead. “Just say good night, Ivy.” He lies down on his back and reaches for my hand to link our fingers together.

“Good night, Ivy,” I murmur.

His soft chuckle brings a smile to my lips, and my earlier tension eases. “Smart-ass.”

“You love it,” I shoot back softly.

There’s a beat of silence. “That I do.”

“Good night, Becket.”

“Good night, Ivy.”

When the strong tug of sleep begins to pull me under, I can’t help but replay the way his voice deepened, changing to a lower timbre when he said, “That I do.”

And I wonder if there’s any chance someone like him could really love a person like me.