Pieces of Us (Confessions of the Heart 3)

Intoxicating.

Wild jasmine and the sun.

I sucked it down, and she was shivering as I pressed my mouth close to her temple and whispered, “I’m fucking scared, too.”

She leaned back against the door, like she was searching for space. Only thing it did was make me want to press her to it, slide my palms up the bare flesh of her thighs barely concealed by that dress.

Her head rocked back on the wood, and it put that striking face on full display, her mouth a mere breath away. “We don’t have the luxury of bein’ scared, Maxon. This is real life. My children’s lives. My children who are my entire world. And if you step through this door, that means I’m allowing you to be a part of it. That I’m taking that risk. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Fear stretched tight across my chest. More glaring was the determination and devotion that covered it. “There’s nothing more that I want than to be a part of that world.”

I wavered for a second before I asked, “What did you tell them about what happened yesterday?”

“I told them that you weren’t feelin’ well and had to go home, but you were doing better today.”

Her voice was a wisp. Close to a plea.

A flutter of soft amusement pulled at one side of that mouth that was making me crazy. “Dillon thinks we don’t like each other much.”

Couldn’t help the draw, just . . . needing to touch. I reached out and took the first two fingers on her left hand, and I swung them between us.

A simple touch that was nothing but a wildfire.

Goddamn.

My heart leapt, spirit all too quick to get on board.

This was the way it was supposed to be.

She gasped in surprise—because I’d had the audacity to do it or from the shock of energy that went racing, I didn’t know. “Problem’s never been how much I like you, Little Bird.”

Flustered, Izzy shifted, pulled her fingers away, and cleared her throat. “This isn’t about us,” she reminded me, though I could feel the need radiating from her soft, flushed skin.

“Isn’t it?”

“Maxon . . .”

Blinking a bunch of times, she glanced away before she looked back at me, a shield visibly coming up, the girl trying with everything to block me out.

“We’d better get in there. The boys are probably bouncing from the walls by now. Can’t believe they actually minded this time and stayed inside.”

Softness filled her gaze. No doubt, that expression was reserved for her boys.

“They’re really, really excited to meet you, Maxon. Please, don’t let them down. I know Benjamin is your son, but Dillon doesn’t know anything different than Benjamin does. Try . . .” Her brow pinched. “Try to treat them the same, if you can, if only for tonight.”

A growl rushed up my throat, and I pushed forward, eclipsing her as I towered over her tiny body.

Shock had her gasping a tiny sound, and it was taking everything I had not to grab her.

Hold her.

Let loose all the words that were burning on my tongue.

Figured there were only a few that were appropriate right then. “They’re your children, Izzy. Yours. A part of you. How could I not love them both?”

Redness flashed across her defined cheeks.

I wanted to kiss her so damn bad my guts hurt.

Her head shook.

“Don’t stand here and make promises you can’t keep.”

“I want to be in my son’s life, Izzy. Be the kind of father he deserves.” It was a groan, and I was pressing closer, so close that I could feel the erratic thrum of her heart.

I nudged her jaw with my nose, inhaling as I went. “Want to be the man you deserve.”

“Maxon,” she whimpered.

“Let’s go inside, Izzy Baby. I’m about two seconds from getting very, very distracted, and meeting my son needs to be my priority right now.”

“Damn you, Maxon Chambers.”

I grabbed her hand and pressed her knuckles to my lips. “Was damned without you. Took my first real breath in years the second I saw you standing in that store.”

She stared at me, that connection pinging between us, the air thin.

“Let’s go inside, Izzy.” My voice roughened. “I want to meet my son.”

Trembling, she reached back and turned the knob, and she ducked her head as she pushed it open and ushered me inside ahead of her.

A surge of warmth covered me.

Remembering this place.

These walls.

A sanctuary.

Peace.

It was all clouded by the last time I’d been in this room. The horror of what had gone down.

I gulped around the memory of it, knocked out of the stupor when the little guy who’d floored me yesterday came barreling down the steps from the top floor, inciting a riot with every step.

Kid had a messy mop of dark blond hair that bounced around his chubby face.

Joy radiated from his spirit.

And it was clutching mine, holding me in a tight fist.