Page 29 of Crowe
“I’m staying,” he said. “Unless you want me to leave.”
Something in my chest settled. “Okay. Do you want a glass of wine?”
“No, I’m good.”
We sat on the couch, me sitting sideways with one knee pulled up, facing him.
“Hawk and Wolfe got a couple of names for us. Kat’s working on them, and we should have something definitive by morning.”
“That sounds good,” I said.
A comfortable quiet settled between us.
“I should let you get some sleep,” he said. “I can take the couch if you want.”
“Or we could share the bed.” I held his gaze and made sure he could see that I meant it, because after that kiss this morning, we both knew what would happen if he stayed in bed with me.
He leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “Noah.” His voice was even but careful. “I need you to be sure about what you’re asking for. I’ll sleep on that couch, and it changes nothing between us. That’s not why I’m here.”
“I know that,” I said. “I know. I’m asking because I want you there.” I tilted my head slightly. “Do you want to be there?”
He looked at me for a long moment. I didn’t look away. Finally, something in his expression softened, and he nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I do.”
I let out a breath and reached over, laying my hand on top of his where it rested on his knee. He turned his hand and laced our fingers together.
We stayed like that for a moment.
“Jackson,” I said quietly.
“Yeah.”
“I’m not fragile.”
He looked at me, neither of us speaking.
Finally, I decided that, apparently, today was about me being brave. I went down into that cellar, and now I was going to do this. I took in a breath and then looked him right in the eyes. “I know what I want, Daddy,” I said. “And I know what I don’t. You don’t have to treat me like I’m breakable.”
His eyes darkened, and he took in a deep breath. Then he stood and he drew me to my feet. “Okay, baby boy,” he said. “Let’s go to bed then.”
The bedroom was dim; the only light was what came in through the curtains from the city below. I sat on the edge of the bed and watched Jackson move through the space. He set his phone on the nightstand, pulled off his jacket, and hung it over the chair back. All of it was deliberate and unhurried. Something about watching him do ordinary things seemed so right.
He turned and looked at me.
“Still good?” he asked.
“Still good.”
He crossed the room and stood in front of me, close but not crowding. He reached down and tipped my chin up with two fingers.
“You tell me if anything changes,” he said.
“I will.”
He leaned down and kissed me. Slowly, in the same careful way he’d kissed me that morning at the cabin, measuring the temperature of it, making sure I was with him. I was. Both my hands came up and gripped his shirt.
He made a low sound and pulled back just enough to look at me. Then he sat beside me on the edge of the bed, turning toward me, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw.
“Lie back,” he said softly.
