A couple hours later, needing my laptop, I went into his bedroom to grab it from the nightstand on my side of the bed.
“Hey, baby,” he murmured, having rolled over so he could see me, his smile so full of aching tenderness that I took a second to wonder what I’d done right in my life to deserve him.
“Go back to sleep,” I directed him, turning to go.
He caught my wrist. “I can’t sleep. My mind keeps running through the what-ifs.”
“Everything’s fine,” I assured him, needing to leave the room almost desperately. Here I’d made this huge decision, and I hadn’t even told him. “Just try and—”
“You could sit in bed and do whatever you have to. That’d be good.”
“The typing will keep you awake,” I argued. “If I leave you alone, you’ll be out in seconds and—”
“I don’t—” His breath caught. “Don’t want you to leave me alone.”
I wasn’t stupid. I knew we weren’t talking about the present.
“So, if it would be all right with you, I want to talk to Montez about—”
“Stop,” I ordered, putting the laptop back where it had been and then climbing over him and dropping down onto the bed beside him.
“Jesus, be careful of your wound,” he groused, rolling over to face me, scowling. “Take off the sweater and let me check the bandage to make sure it’s not bleeding again or—”
“It’s fine,” I assured him, sliding my hand over his cheek, unable to not touch him.
“You got—it’s just luck that Ryder didn’t kill you. He’s an excellent marksman and—”
“I don’t think his heart was in it, and I did hit him with your omelet pan.”
He closed his eyes and breathed while I stroked over his cheek, the strong line of his jaw under the coppery-gold stubble, and finally slipped my thumb over his lips, over and over, until he whined with such raw hunger that it was all I could do not to attack him.
I was gentle instead.
Cupping the back of his head, I held him still as I leaned in and kissed him, deeply, relentlessly, not letting him breathe, finally putting him on his back so I could lie down on top of him. We were separated by the covers, him under them, me above, but I could feel the heat of his body seeping through the layers.
“Croy,” he gritted out, and I heard the crack in his voice. “When I ran into the living room and saw you there bleeding, I thought—I’ve never—”
“It’s okay,” I soothed him. “I’m fine, you’re fine, and it was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I can’t imagine being threatened at home like that ever again, though I really want to know why you had a spare door on hand.”
I meant to be playful, teasing, but realized after a moment that it seemed like he was holding his breath.
“Dallas?”
“Get in bed with me.”
“You need to—”
“Please,” he rasped, choking on the word. “Don’t tell me to rest, because my mind is racing and—I know what I need.”
“Dallas—”
“Croy,” he murmured, calming, exhaling slowly. “Hurry before I lose my nerve.”
“Listen to me,” I soothed him. “I—”
“I need to know you’re safe, and words aren’t enough,” he croaked, eyes brimming with tears, meeting mine. “Take off your clothes, get the lube, and fuck me so I know.”
He was overwrought and exhausted, mentally, emotionally, and physically drained. Add to that he had taken all the choices, all the responsibility and the onus of the relationship on himself. He thought he was the only one who cared enough to turn his life upside down, only because he’d realized before I had that distance wasn’t going to work. He was better with me around. I brought out the best in him. What he’d missed was that I felt the same.
Instead of complying with his demands, I sat up, straddling his hips, and put one hand flat over his heart as I stared down into his eyes.
“Croy,” he husked.
“It’s not only you,” I told him. “You’re not the only one here who understands that us being together works.”
He blinked several times before finally lifting his right hand to his face and brushing away the tears.
“This shouldn’t work,” I said, my voice thick and low, finding it hard to speak around the lump in my throat. “We couldn’t be more different, and yet—”
“We fit,” he said, shivering. “We belong together.”
I sighed deeply. “Yes.”
He jolted underneath me, staring up at my face. “Yeah?”
“We already agreed to try,” I reminded him.
“This is more than trying,” he clarified as he took hold of my thighs, gripping tight.
It was, he was right. This was making a decision to stay. “It makes sense for me to move here,” I said gruffly. “Your family is here, you own your house, you have a job you love, and—”
“Hey.”
I stopped listing things and met his gaze.
“Thank you for having faith,” he said softly, not taking his eyes off me. “You’ll see, Croy, I’m gonna make you so happy.”