The words race through me with the power of a rushing wave. I reach for his shoulder to steady my stance. "I don't know what to say when you talk like that."
"You never have to say a thing." His right hand dips to my chin to pull my gaze up to his. "I can see everything you feel when I look in your eyes."
I tug my hand free of the pocket, lift it up to cup his cheek and I give in to my body's need to feel.
***
My hips involuntarily buck off the bed as he slides one of his long, firm fingers into me. I hear my own moan fill the quiet air in the room before I sense it within me. I close my eyes, not wanting him to see everything that I'm feeling. This time it isn't just about the magnitude of the pleasure that he gives to me. This time it's about the words he spoke when he kneeled in front of me. It's about the love that he feels for me.
"You're so wet, Bridget." His tongue dances over my clit. "I love how you taste."
I reach down to weave my fingers through his dark hair. I've never felt a need to direct the pressure or angle of his mouth on my core like I have with past lovers. Dane instinctively knows what I need. He can read my body better than I can and right now, I know that he senses that with just a few pressured licks of his skilled tongue on my swollen bud that I'll be racing over the edge towards an intense orgasm.
"Dane," I say his name not only to edge him on but to try to convey everything that I want to say. I wanted us to talk about his profession of love before we shared our bodies again. I wanted to hear my own voice saying it back to him. It's what I feel. It may be jumbled with confusion about his connection to Cleo or the lingering issues with Maisy, but my heart is bound to his. I know that now.
He buries his face between my legs with a soft sigh. His tongue races over my folds before he lashes my clit over and over again.
I don't want to cling to the edge of the sensation. I just want to feel and as the heat of my climax floods over me, I cry out from the sheer pleasure and the knowledge that this is the man I need in my life. This is the man I can't live without.
Chapter 10
"I love you, Bridget."
My eyes flutter open at the sound of his deep voice. I start to turn to face him but his chin is resting on my shoulder. His arms are draped around me, pulling my nude body into his. I can feel the pressure of his erection against my hip. After he licked me to orgasm, he'd crawled up my body and had kissed me with a fevered passion. I'd clung to him and as the tempo of our kisses quieted, he'd rolled me onto my back and had stared into my eyes before I started to drift to sleep.
"You love me?" I whisper as I try to crane my head to the side. It's not what I want to say. I want to flip over and tell him that I love him too. I want those words to flow from my mouth with the same grace as they did from his but I know that they can't. I know that if I say them now that they'll sound like an empty reflection of his confession. This is his moment. Mine will come, but it's not right now.
His hands grip my waist to guide me to turn over. I do it slowly knowing that once I'm settled next to him that I'll want to look into his eyes to see if I can find the same meaning within the words there that I hear in his voice.
I rest my hands on his bare chest as my eyes catch on the tattoo. It's a symbol of his love and adoration for his mother. She's the one woman who Vanessa saw with both Maisy and Cleo. I push the thoughts from my mind, wanting only to focus on what he just said to me.
"I said it the other day," he begins before he lowers his lips to brush over mine. "When I thought you were having our baby, I said it."
My heart drops slightly at the quiet admission. He had said it in the heat of the moment when he thought I'd just announced that I was expecting his child. I don't want him to back track and tell me that it wasn't grounded in his reality but in the momentary belief that we were going to share a baby boy. I study his face, my gaze sliding over his eyes. "I remember, Dane."
"On the street that morning I thought you were telling me that you were having my baby." He glides his lips across my cheek. "I was so happy."
I feel a stab of pure joy. "You were happy?"
He nods his head slightly, causing his hair to brush against my neck. "Having a baby with you would be a dream come true."
I hear the words clearly but absorbing them isn't as easy. A baby of my own is an abstract, but wanted, part of my future. I'm too young to even consider the notion of bringing another life into my world. My work is finally finding its audience and my heart has just started opening to this beautiful, caring man. A baby may be something we'd discuss years from now, after we'd traveled somewhere exotic on our honeymoon, and have shared a few anniversary dinners.
"I haven't thought about having a baby," I say honestly.
"I didn't either until I thought you were having ours," he murmurs in my ear. "It made me understand how much you mean to me."
"You said that you loved me when you thought I was pregnant." I graze my lips against his temple. "I understand if you said it because of that."
He pulls back so his gaze is on my face. His lips part just as his eyes lock on mine. "I said it because I mean it, Bridget. I love you."
I feel my lower lip tremble. Even if I wanted to repeat back the words to him, my body won't allow it. I'm tangled in such a tightly wound emotional knot that the only sound I can make is a tempered whimper.
"I'll say it again so you never forget it," he rasps. "I love you, Bridget Grant. I'll never stop."
***
My eyes catch on the leg of my jeans as I watch Dane pull the sweater he was wearing earlier back over his head. After he'd told me he'd loved me, he'd fucked me slowly, the entire time his eyes had held onto mine.
I had wanted to say those tender words to him but after we'd both came, he had kissed me deeply before pulling himself to his feet. He'd retreated into the bathroom and as I listened to the water from the shower running, I'd stood to stare out the window into the darkened city.
Everything I wanted was ten feet away from me, singing at the top of his lungs in the shower, yet I couldn't drag my feet across the small bedroom to join him. I wanted to but the weight of the words I can't yet say to him are there, tugging me back, making me retreat.
Now, as I watch him adjust the ball cap back on his damp hair, I know the moment is gone. I can't share my heart with him tonight. I can't do it with the knowledge that I'm the one holding things back from him.
"We need to talk about Cleo," he says as if on cue. "I want to talk to you more about her."
I reach for him as much to feel his touch one last time before he leaves, as to stop the urge I have to bend over so I can pull the white card with Cleo's hospital room number on it, from my jeans. I should have confessed to him that I know where she is. I should have told him that she's a mom now. I shouldn't have held onto all of that as he opened his heart to me.
He wraps me into his arms. "I'm so glad I came over. I have to go to work but I'll be back tomorrow."