Page 89 of Wayward

“I’m thrilled,” he said, sounding anything but.

I snickered.

“Just, stay here with me. I want you and Misha with me in my house so badly. I… This feels so different.”

“What does?”

“This. You,” he husked. “And I know it’s new, and that’s some of it, but this reaction I’m having…I’ve never had it before.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a good thing.”

He sighed. “It’s a very good thing.”

“I don’t have any other plans,” I soothed him, and eased him down for a kiss.

In my head, I’d imagined us combusting when he got home. That he would walk me through the front door of his house, close the door, and throw me over his couch. I was certain that everything about men having sex was rough and hard, as that was all it had ever been for me. I’d ached to show others tenderness, but the encounters were always rushed, with whispered demands of harder, faster, and fuck me. And while that was hot and sexy, I always missed the tenderness and connection I kept hoping for.

“We need to get some things clear,” Gale murmured as he broke the kiss, stood up, and held out his hand. When I took it, he pulled me to my feet.

“What’re you—”

“Have you been through the whole house?”

“No,” I told him. “It felt intrusive without you here.”

“Then look around so you know where you’re going later,” he announced, walking me from the living room, down a short hall, to his large bedroom. “This is my room, our room whenever you’re here, which after tonight, I hope will be all the time. I like the brown and cream colors, but if you hate it, we’ll change it. That right there is an antique armoire I bought years ago and never understood why.”

I stayed quiet, just listening.

“Now I know. It was for you.”

Mine. For my stuff. I liked his thought process.

I was certain that to other people, he was moving too fast. To me, who knew life could change in an instant, it was perfect. While everyone else could ponder and make lists, take time to figure out what they wanted, Gale knew. He’d decided. It was me. He had looked at the insane series of events that had led me to his tiny town and decided that it wasn’t crazy but, instead, fate.

“I moved that chair and stool in here so you can sit by the window and read or watch the rain or whatever you want.”

It was a deep-buttoned leather wingback armchair with a matching ottoman, and I couldn’t have picked myself something I liked better.

“The bathroom is right through there. There’s double sinks, the right side is yours, and there’s space for all your stuff.”

“So that’s it? You just want me here?” I asked as Misha came into the room, rushing over to me. I gave him a quick pat and deposited him on the huge king-size bed.

“Yes,” he said flatly. “You need to be here, with me, so I feel grounded, but…I will admit to feeling the same when I’m with you at your place.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s you, not the house.”

“That’s very romantic.”

“Listen, I’m just being honest. As long as at the end of the night I get to be in the same bed as you, wherever that is, I’ll be happy.”

“Okay.”

“You’re good for me.”

I’d never been good for anyone before starting over in this new life.