Page 102 of What Remains of Grace

“Jenna,” he whispered, voice unsteady.

She touched his cheek, gentle but sure. “I’m here.”

He laid her on the bed with a tenderness that felt like it might kill him. She pulled him down with her.

His breath caught at the realization that she was letting him see all of her now, not just the polished, guarded version she showed the rest of the world.

He kissed her again, slower now, deeper, his hand sliding up her thigh as a low sound escaped her, her fingers tugging at his shirt, pulling him down until their bodies aligned perfectly, inevitably.

Her whispered, breathless “Cole . . .” undid him entirely.

He pressed his forehead to hers, voice low and wrecked. “I’ve got you.” She pulled his shirt over his head.

He answered by undressing her slowly, with a careful intention he hadn’t realized he was capable of.

When she lifted her hips to help him, the sight of her, the line of her back, the curve of her body, stole whatever words he might have found.

Her hands were already at his belt, quick and hurried.

He wasn’t rushing. He watched Jenna carefully, searching her face for even a flicker of uncertainty.

But all he saw was want, sharp and unmistakable. Urgent desire.

* * *

She didn’t know how long she lay there with her cheek against his chest, listening to the rise and fall of his breathing. Long enough for the panic to ebb, replaced by something heavier. More dangerous.

Cole traced slow circles on her shoulder, giving her a sense of calm she didn’t know was possible given the current circumstances.

The yellow envelope lay across the room like a waiting storm. Reality began seeping back in, cold and sharp.

She let out a slow breath, her forehead resting against him. “This shouldn’t feel this good,” she murmured. “Not with everything happening.”

He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “It’s okay that it does.”

“I’m sorry for pushing you away,” she said evenly. “For acting like I didn’t want you when actually I did.”

Cole exhaled like the weight of months had finally slid off his shoulders.

“Jenna,” he said, voice steady for the first time all night, “I’m in love with you.”

She didn’t answer with words.

She leaned in and kissed him, sure, deliberate, like choosing him was the easiest decision she’d made in years.

When she pulled back, breath brushing his lips, she whispered, “You too.”

There was a moment.

A tiny, stunned moment.

And then they both broke. Not a chuckle, or a restrained laugh.

They cackled. It was actual, ridiculous, full-body laughter that shook the bed and tore the tension in half.

It was absurd and overdue and perfect.

They couldn’t stop, not for a long moment, until they were both breathless and grinning like idiots.