The Closer You Come

Brook Lynn took a step back as bumblebees took flight inside her stomach. “Why are you making a romantic gesture?”

“Because I want you.”

A flare of disappointment. Not this again. “You’ve said that before.”

“All right, then, how about this?” His eyes glittered like freshly polished emeralds, snaring her. “You are gorgeous, Brook Lynn, and you are sweet. You are protective and loyal. I’ve never seen anyone care for her family the way you care for yours. It’s admirable, and I want to be part of that family. I want more from you.”

She rubbed her chest in an attempt to dull the ache his words had caused. “I—I’ve heard that last part, too.”

His gaze slid over her and heated. “I’m happiest when you’re nearby. You make me smile and laugh. Do you know how tough that is to do? You make me want to be worthy of more...of better. You make me want to hold on to you, hold on to what we have, and never let go.”

Her knees threatened to melt. Can’t jump into his arms. Must proceed with caution. “But...you’re my boss.”

“And I want to be your man. I can be both. Boss by day, boyfriend by night.”

Boyfriend. He’d put a label on it.

He was deadly serious about this.

“Yes,” she said, tremors running through her. “Yes, I want that. Want you.”

She expected him to smile. She’d just given him the green light. But he frowned, confusing her.

“Don’t agree just yet. There are things you don’t know about me,” he said, taking her hand, linking their fingers, gripping her almost painfully, as if he feared she would try to jerk away. “Things about my past. Things you’re not going to like and that I don’t want to tell you. Things that might even scare you. But I hope you’ll give me a chance to explain anyway.”

A tremor moved through him and into her. He’d never—never—looked at her like this, as if there really had been a zombie-virus outbreak, and he had to be the one to tell her. Her mouth went dry. What could be so bad?

Car lights flashed yet again, and in the light she caught a glimpse of his guilt, regret and sorrow, emotions he couldn’t hide.

“Did you chop up an old girlfriend and put her in your freezer?” she asked easily.

“No,” he rushed out. “Never.”

“Are you sick or dying?”

“No.”

“Do you kick puppies in your spare time?”

“No.”

“Then I don’t need to know. Yet.” They’d just decided to try for more. The bonds between them were fragile, easily breakable.

“But—”

“Jase,” she said softly, tracing her fingers over the hand holding hers. “It’s okay. Really.” At the moment, he only wanted to tell her because he felt he had to, and that’s not what she wanted from him, or for him. One day he would realize sharing their pasts was a way to grow closer. But until then, he would only feel pressured, forced or coerced. They might be over before they started. “I know the man you are now, and I like him.”

He expelled a breath, brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. His tongue stroked her skin, and heat only he could ignite spread through her.

“I should warn you,” he said, gaze locked on her. “I might not want to chop you up and put you in my freezer, but I’m a little obsessed with you. I want you to be mine fully. Mine to touch. Mine to taste and to strip and play with. And I will do so. Often.”

Was he trying to prepare her or scare her off? Well, news flash. He’d failed to scare her. She only wanted him more. To be the center of his attention, to be the object of his attraction—yes.

“No one else can have you,” he said.

“Will you see other people?” she asked. “Because that would be a deal breaker.”

“Hell, no. There is only one woman I desire, and I’m outside her window, waiting to be invited in.”

Oh, this man. Tenderness welled inside her. “I would invite you in so hard, but Jessie Kay is here and the walls are thin.”

“I can be quiet. The noise problem is all you, honey.” He offered a sweet, sexy grin that weakened her knees. “Brought you a present.”

“For me?”

“Yes, you.” He dug into his pockets and pulled out handfuls of ripped paper. “Your contract had to go,” he said, “and a new one had to be drafted.” He lifted an eight-by-eight frame he must have propped against the house before he’d started throwing those rocks.

She peered down and read, “‘I, Jase Hollister, give Brook Lynn Dillon all the nights, mornings and afternoons she so desperately desires. I’m in this thing long-term.’”

He was giving her more than she could ever have hoped. Happy tears stung her eyes as she set the plaque down and cupped his cheeks, her thumbs stroking over his stubble. “Get in here. Your presence isn’t invited—it’s commanded.”

He took her hands, squeezed. “You get to command me now? That’s how this works?”

“Yes,” she said and heard rustling in nearby bushes. She moved aside so Jase could climb into the bedroom, in case wild animals were out scavenging. When he stood before her, she closed and covered the window and gripped the hem of his shirt, ready to tug the material over his head. “But don’t worry. You’ll soon be thanking me.”