42. Haven
Chapter Forty-Two
Haven
Cash releases his hold on me just long enough to unbutton his own shirt, baring his chest. He drops it to the floor, followed by the rest of his clothes, his heavy belt buckle landing with a thud.
He strips all the way naked, until he’s standing in front of me wearing nothing but raw emotion all over his face.
His fierce expression takes my breath away.
If I hadn’t already figured out—at the worst possible moment—that he’d already showed me he loved me, I would see it now. I don’t need him to explain further.
“You don’t need to force words that don’t come naturally,” I promise him, pressing my hands to his bare chest. He has a tattoo for his mother just below his collarbone, and I trace it with my fingertips. “You can love me however comes easiest to you. That’s more than enough for me.”
“It’s not enough for me. I want you to be loved in every way, not just what’s easy.
But I don’t know if I’m the right man. I’ve never been worthy.
Of anything. Anyone. Definitely not you.
I barely made it out of high school. I fucked up my time in the army.
I was too stubborn to take a plea deal and stay out of jail. Loving me cost my family so much.”
“They adore you. Still, to this day.”
He drags in a ragged breath.
I pull him right against me, his naked body fitting perfectly between my thighs. He sags into me, this rough, fearless, dangerous man who didn’t hesitate to save my life—and then spared Jeb’s, too.
“You’re such a good man,” I whisper. “Worthy of love.”
“I feel guilty for wanting your love,” he mumbles into my neck.
My heart squeezes. “What will it cost me? My reputation as a righteous, Godly woman?”
He groans and kisses my collarbone, right beside where the gold crucifix my mother gave me sits. “Yes.”
“You know, Jeb never asked me about my faith. Not when I returned to Dragonfly Creek, not at any point over the last six months. Definitely not tonight, when he held a knife to my throat. He didn’t even register the cross I still wear.”
Cash’s groan turns feral and his grip on me tightens.
“But you asked me about my faith. You care.”
“I love you so much.” He presses his face tighter against me. “I just want you to be happy.”
“With you, I will be. I don’t care about my reputation. What else will it cost me?”
“I hurt you. I got a chance to have you, to love you, and I couldn’t fucking say it until your life was in danger.”
“My life isn’t in danger right now. Say it again.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. And whatever that looks like—”
“I want forever.” He’s sure of that. It’s staggeringly clear in his voice, despite the weight of that desire. He wants forever with me, no matter the cost.
“Tell me more.” I kiss his brow. “Tell me what you want.”
“I want to read with you. Cook with you. Make you laugh.”
“Yes.”
“I want to have a home of our own. Here on the ranch. I want a big bed, so I can hold you every night, and our kids can pile in with us in the morning.”
“Kids?”
“Am I getting ahead of myself? Because if you don’t want—”
“I want.” I swallow hard at the wave of shock that rolls over me. How foolish I was not to seek him out tonight, to tell him about my suspicions. To hold his hand as I confronted Kaitlyn.
I came so close, too close, to never finding out that Cash Kincaid wants babies with me.
“I want a family with you.” My voice cracks. “I want that so much.”
“Then we’ll do that when you’re ready. And we’ll read them all the books, and teach them to cook, and—”
I cut him off with a kiss. Yes, all of that.
He’s so gentle with me. His words, and his dreams for the future, and his kisses.
I need more.
“You love me,” I whisper against his mouth.
“So, so much.” He groans and tugs my dress down to my waist, as if he’s just remembered he was getting us ready for a shower.
I smile and wind my arms around his neck. “So love me, Cash.”
His breath catches as he hears my double meaning. “Not tonight. I’ll be too rough.”
“Will you? Or is that something else you tell yourself because it’s easier to believe than that you’re perfect?”
“Not fucking perfect.”
“You’re perfect for me.”
“Fucking hell, Haven, you’re so sweet, you make me feral.”
I like that so much. “Feral?”
“I ache to be inside you. To feel, from the inside out, that you’re still vibrant and safe and mine. To feel your…”
“My what?” I cradle his face between my breasts, loving the feel of his lips on my skin as he answers me. I can’t get enough naked contact with him. Feral is a good word for how I feel, too.
He moans against me. “Your pulse.” he kisses me at the base of my neck. “It’s not enough to feel it here…” He drags his face back to my breasts. “Or to hear it here.”
“That’s not enough? You need to be inside me?”
“Don’t talk dirty to me, not when I’m trying to do the right thing.”
“I don’t mean to.”
“That’s what makes it so good. So right. So filthy. You’re so fucking sweet.” He steps back. His chest heaves with a deep breath as he pins wild eyes on me. “Shower first. Then bed.”
Yes, shower first.
I need him to make me clean.
And then I need him to make me whole, and that will happen in bed.