Dirty Toe Drag (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 6)

She doesn’t even hesitate. “Absolutely not. It only makes me prouder to be yours.”

“I’m still healing.”

“And I want to be there for you.”

“Are you sure?”

Her eyes are so determined, so perfectly kind. “I’ve never been so sure about something in my life.”

And right then, I know I’ll never love anyone the way I love Stella Brooks.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Stella

I’ve never woken up next to a man I didn’t have sex with the night before.

Not that I was expecting sex after all we talked about, but as my eyes blink open, Wes sleeping soundly beside me, I have to admit that while it’s new, it’s remarkable. It makes me feel complete as I gaze at him, his blond lashes brushing his cheeks. His mouth is hanging open, and I know he’s completely out. It was an emotionally draining night, for him most of all. I never could have even imagined what he told me. I had been under the impression he was addicted to sex or he was beaten as kid. Nothing could have prepared me for the truth. The look in his eyes. The way his body trembled against mine as I held him. Nothing, and I mean nothing, could have prepared me for that.

I am broken for him.

I hurt for the boy he was. It makes me miss his mom, even though I never knew her. If she had been here, those things wouldn’t have happened. He wouldn’t have been subjected to such evil, such soul-crushing situations that he was all alone in. I wish I had been there. I would have saved him, or I would have had Emery kill them for him. I wish I could make it all go away. I wish it had never happened, but at the same time, I know if he hadn’t gone through it, he wouldn’t be who he is today.

And I love the man he is.

Oh, I love him so desperately. Completely. As I held him, whispering in his ear that I was there, supporting him, I wanted to tell him I loved him. But for one, it wasn’t about me; it wasn’t about my feelings. It was all him. And secondly, I don’t know if he is ready for that. For the wholehearted love I have for him. He is healing, and it almost scares me. What if that therapist was right? What if he isn’t ready for a relationship? What if he needs more time? I am more than willing to be there for him, to support him. But is he capable of loving me the way I love him?

I reach out, brushing my knuckles along his jaw, and I don’t even want to think about it. I don’t want to believe it. I feel in my heart he is ready. He has been a really great boyfriend. Yes, it’s new and very early, but I feel we vibe on a different level. While I hate the way he shuts down and shuts me out, I understand now. I get it. We can work on that. But can someone love after such horrible abuse? Then I remember he said he did love before, though that was before the therapy. Fuck, I don’t know. I’m terrified.

I glance at the clock on his nightstand, and I realize I need to go. While no one will be at the house for hours, I promised my mom I would help with appetizers since Shelli got a taco truck for lunch. I grab my phone, ordering an Uber and checking my email. I then move closer to Wes, kissing his jaw, and he leans into my lips.

I smile against the prickle of his beard and whisper, “I gotta go. I already called an Uber, so sleep.”

“You sure? I can take you.”

“No, it’s fine,” I say, kissing him again. “I already ordered it.”

He turns his face to mine, pressing his lips into my nose. “I don’t want you to leave.”

I grin against his chin, kissing it. “I don’t either, but I promised my mom.”

His lips trail along my nose, my cheeks, before kissing my jaw. “Can you come over tonight?”

“Absolutely.”

He kisses me once more, and I lean into him, loving the feel of his body pressed to mine. “Pack a bag.”

“Will do.” We kiss again, but I know if I don’t get out of this bed, I won’t leave. I kiss him on his top lip before rolling out of bed and grabbing my shoes. We were so exhausted that we both fell into bed without even undressing.

“Thanks for everything,” he says as I reach for the door. I look back at him; he’s all cuddled in the blankets, looking downright sinful. “My beautiful, stunning, sensational Stella.”

I can’t help but grin widely at him. I want to yell that I love him. I want to throw myself back in the bed, but I know I can’t. Not yet. “I got you, boo.”