Page 64 of Waste of Worth

Karen frowned slightly. “What if I wake up one day and it’s not enough? What do I do then?”

He didn’t have an answer for her. Not one that she would like, or one that he liked. He struggled for an answer, and Karen didn’t miss it.

“Are we just waiting that moment out?” she asked.

Dino didn’t—wouldn’t—say yes to that.

He was not going to agree to that.

“No,” he said.

Karen’s brow rose. “No? I’m not sure what else we’re working toward, Dino.”

“Not that.”

He was all too aware that she was not given to him. That she was not a part of the life he wanted to keep her safe and far away from. He understood perfectly well that she would need things he couldn’t give, and the good life was not a part of the plans he offered.

What he gave was what she got.

Late nights.

Short conversations.

Private moments.

Them.

He didn’t have much else to give.

But honestly, he didn’t give that to anyone else.

“Karen,” Dino said, cupping her face in his hands so he could make her look at him. In the brown eyes staring back at him, he found solid ground. He didn’t like to feel as though he were constantly falling, never able to stand. It was good to be grounded somewhere—with someone. He couldn’t help that the rest of his life, barring the spots she brightened, were such a mess. “We don’t have to work toward anything at all. Isn’t this good?”

“I didn’t say it wasn’t.”

“But you don’t say it is, either.”

Karen smiled faintly. “It is good, Dino. But I wonder if it could be better.”

“By making me better, you mean.”

“If you think you need to be.”

“Not when I’m with you, sweetheart.”

“Oh.”

Leaning down, he captured her soft lips with his own, lingering there to hold that kiss for as long as he could. And when she sighed, pleased and happy at his surprise, he took that small opening she gave to deepen the kiss so that he had her warmth and taste on his tongue.

It took practically nothing at all for that innocent kiss to turn into something far hotter when Karen’s lips broke away from his, her kisses dotting over his bruised jaw and then over the racing pulse point in his throat.

She was always so soft—gentle.

Her touches never hurt, her actions never stung.

He liked that a lot.

When he’d lived his whole life in a world where it seemed as though everyone wanted to hurt him, to find the one person who wanted to care for him was everything.