Page 37 of Found in Wild Sage

One of his warm palms slides up the length of my spine and rests between my shoulder blades.

“I want you both to feel at home here.”

His large hand feels utterly decadent there. The only thing that would make it better would be if I could feel the press of his rough palm against my skin instead of my shirt.

But that line of thinking is not a good idea.

I squeeze him once more, then ease back, wary of overstepping and then holding him hostage.

“Thank you so much.” I can’t get enough of his face. His eyes. That handsome jaw calling to my hands and lips demanding to be traced and studied.

It’d be for science, I swear.

I pace away because whoa, mama, the train has left the station on this one. Something about our evening together talking about our pasts, planning to move in together, and then the deadly combination of him feeding me delicious food he made and being so thoughtful in preparing for us to move in?

It has unleashed the inner hussy in me and the man she wants is her fiancé. Her soon-to-be husband. All things considered, that isn’t terrible news, except the part where we don’t have a relationship.

I won’t survive being so close to him while full on his delicious food in this lovely home if I keep thinking about that, so I focus on where he gestures to the next room.

One door over from Charlie’s room opens to a bathroom with a bathtub, toilet, a vanity with sink, and he’s a fool if he thinks I don’t notice there’s a little mesh basket suctioned to the tile of the tub filled with bath toys. Maybe they’re for his nieces but somehow, I doubt it. I haven’t heard Sam talk about the girls staying anywhere other than the grandparents’ house, and these all look like baby things, anyway.

By the time I reach door number three, I’m practically a walking heaving bosom. It’s ridiculous, but here I am, chest, cheeks, and neck flushed, and mind absolutely scattered to the winds.

Inside, there’s a queen-sized bed with a deep green duvet and bright white sheets placed on a rug with blacks, grays, tans, and whites in an ornate pattern that sits over hardwood floors. It’s both masculine and earthy, and incredibly inviting. There are blond wood accents along with the bed frame, side tables, and a sizable dresser that looks antique. There’s nothing on the walls here, either, except one large black-and-white photograph on a far wall I can’t quite see since I’m perpendicular to it now. Across from the photo at the back of the room, there are two doors I assume lead to a bathroom and a closet, plus an overstuffed chair in a little nook that extends out and is surrounded by windows. There’s a lamp, a potted plant, plus I can see a pair of glasses and a book on the table.

It’s a beautiful room that looks so pleasant and restful.

“This is your room?” I ask as I turn back to him.

He’s right there, standing in the doorway with me. We’re only an inch or two apart, and maybe I should step away, but I don’t. I catch his clean, masculine scent mingled with a touch of the grill from his time outside and it sends my logical mind packing.

What would he do if I leaned closer? If I closed the gap between us and pressed against him? Pressed my lips against him?

“It is.” His gaze hooks into mine as we both breathe, chests visibly rising and falling if someone were standing to the side watching us. Then he adds, “It can be yours, too, if you like.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Declan

Her eyes flare and I realize what it sounds like.

But we’re close enough I can’t make myself say anything. I let it hang there, just a moment. She isn’t instantly repulsed by the idea. Just surprised. Which isn’t terrible.

I want to press my hand to her waist. Her hip. I want to drop my face to the curve of her neck and breathe her in.

I want to trail my lips over her clavicle and down between her breasts. I want to⁠—

Stop.

Having her here, being this close, has shaken yet another screw loose.

That hug wasn’t enough.

But maybe it was too much.

Her lashes flutter, and the movement cracks the vision enough to prompt me. “If you want. I can sleep downstairs. Or we can get a bed for Charlie’s room if you’d prefer to share with him.”

A rough laugh tumbles out of her. “Right. Sure. Yes. Of course. Perfect. Thanks.”