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“I don’t want to make you weak,” she whispers. “I want to make you strong. I want to make you realize that you are everything a man should be.”
I ache all over, the tension rippling down my spine. “I can’t be the man you need.”
“Savage,” she whispers. “You already are.”
Twenty-Seven
HANNAH
He’s on his knees in front of me, this huge, strong man, his shoulders heavy with the burdens he’s been carrying on his own for years.
I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose a child. To have lost the woman he loves, and the promise of a future together.
“Savage,” I whisper, rising to my feet.
He remains kneeling in front of me, but he looks up, those dark eyes fixed on me.
I put out my hands. He takes them, holding them to his forehead. It’s like all the pretense has been stripped away—the avoidance, the aloofness, the disconnection.
His hands are warm. “Forgive me.”
“Please, Savage.”
“Call me Carter,” he says.
My heart nearly shatters. “Carter,” I whisper.
He straightens. Slowly, he gets to his feet. He towers over me. “I’ll do anything to make it up to you,” he says. “Anything.”
My heart pounds against the inside of my chest. “Can I have two things?”
“Anything you want. Anything.”
“I want you to consider this,” I say, carefully. “I don’t want you to do it because I say you must. It’s got to be something you want to do, but I really, really, hope you will consider getting therapy. Because the pain you are going through isn’t something you should have to bear on your own.”
He swallows. “I will.”
I let out a breath.
“What else do you want?” His gaze fixes on mine. He’s not shaking any more, but he’s never been more open.
“Kiss me.”
His burly chest rises and falls rapidly.
I wait.
Carter’s hands move up my arms, fingers brushing over the sweater, raising goosebumps even though he’s not touching my skin. He brushes them over the sides of my neck, my cheeks, and rests his palms against my cheeks.
This is happening.
I’m sure that he’ll pull away and say no at the last second.
Carter brings his face to mine, slowly, and hovers his lips an inch from mine, so close that his breath brushes over my face. “I’ve wanted to do this for years.”
And then he presses his lips against mine.
A tremor moves up my body.
