Burn (Breathless #3)(30)

That part scared the shit out of him and excited him all at the same time.

What if she was the one? That woman who, when a man saw her, he was instantly struck with the knowledge that he was done for. Like Mia was for Gabe. Like Bethany was for Jace. The one.

He couldn’t even wrap his mind around it. Wasn’t even going there. It was too soon. The entire situation was crazy. He was moving her into his apartment. He was taking over her life. He hadn’t thought beyond that to “what next?”

Because what the hell was next?

Other than getting Josie in his bed, under his hand, submissive, fully submissive to his every need and desire. Just as he would see to her every need and desire. Wasn’t that enough? It had to be because he wouldn’t let himself think beyond that.

His driver pulled to a stop on the side street to his apartment building and then got out to open the door for Ash.

Ash stepped out first, sliding away from Josie and then extending his hand to help her from the backseat. He tucked her into his side and then collected her overnight bag from the driver before hurrying toward the entrance.

“You live by the Hudson,” Josie said faintly, staring in the direction of the river.

“Yeah. Nice view from the top. Come on up. Let’s get you inside.”

They rode the elevator to the top floor and he carried her bag inside, guiding her toward the bedroom. She stiffened slightly when they entered the master suite, and she glanced sideways, caution reflected in her eyes.

He tossed her bag onto the bed and then pointed toward the bathroom.

“I’ll give you time to get changed into what you’re sleeping in. I’ll be in the kitchen fixing you a glass of wine. Take your time.”

“Where am I sleeping?” she murmured.

He put his hands to her shoulders and let his palms glide down her shoulders. “In my bed, Josie. With me.”

Anxiety crept into her gaze.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead, feeling particularly tender toward her. Perhaps it was the vulnerability. The worry and fear he could see in her eyes.

“When we talk, Josie. It will be in my bed. You in my arms. You safe. And you’ll know that. But you’re only sleeping. It’s why you’re changing into your nightclothes. You won’t wear them again, but tonight, you need that barrier because you’re still not sure of me. After tonight, you will be.”

He kissed her one last time and then he turned, leaving her in his bedroom alone to change.

He went into the kitchen, taking his time as he took down two glasses and opened a bottle of wine. He remembered that she didn’t drink much in the way of alcohol, but she had mentioned she liked an occasional glass of wine, and it would most certainly help her relax tonight. He didn’t know for certain, but he imagined her to prefer red wine. She’d want something with color. Vibrant and flavorful. Nothing devoid of warmth like white wine.

He frowned when he realized his own dinner had been interrupted, and since he’d gone straight to Josie’s and met her upon her arrival, it was likely she hadn’t eaten either.

He rummaged in the fridge for fruit salad and several wedges of gourmet cheese. He arranged a tray, pulling bread and crackers from the pantry to accompany the cheese and fruit. And something sweet. Didn’t all women enjoy chocolate?

His housekeeper often left him delectable homemade treats, and this week’s offering was chocolate mousse with a cream cheese topping. There were five individual dessert dishes on the top shelf of the fridge, so he pulled two of the single-serving containers out, added them to the tray and then yanked spoons from the drawer.

Satisfied that he had all the bases covered, and that he’d given Josie enough time to prepare for bed and to get over any nerves she was feeling, he headed back toward the bedroom.

When he walked in, she was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, and he was absurdly taken by the image of her in his bed. Comfortable, bare feet, like she belonged.

She was wearing silky, hot pink pajamas. Long-legged and long-sleeved, covering her entire body. Buttoned to the neck.

He’d give her this tonight. That barrier. But after this, she would come to their bed with nothing. She’d sleep next to him, her skin against his.

Her eyes widened when she saw the tray he carried and she scrambled up, scooting back off the bed so he could set the tray down.

“Pull back the covers,” he directed. “We’ll get into bed and I’ll put the tray on the nightstand. You can eat in bed next to me.”

She hastily pulled back the comforter and the sheet and even plumped the pillows before crawling back onto the mattress.

As he said, he set the tray down on his side of the bed and then strode toward his closet to strip out of his clothing.

He faced a dilemma, because he never wore anything but boxers to bed. Then he shrugged. It wasn’t as if he was completely nude, and he’d promised her that she’d only rest in his arms. He wasn’t putting the moves on her, so his boxers would do.

When he walked back out, he felt her gaze on him even as she tried to hide the fact that she was watching him. It was adorable the way she peeked from underneath her lashes and the color heightened in her cheeks when he crawled onto the bed beside her.

He offered her the fruit and cheese first and then slipped a glass of wine in her free hand. He offered her bites, enjoying the slight brush of her lips over his fingertips. And she seemed to derive as much pleasure from eating from his hand as he did in feeding her this way.