“I’ll be right out,” she said. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.”

The bathroom door closed behind her.

As he unbuttoned his shirt, it amazed him to think of how far they’d come from the night in September when he’d rescued her and then slept next to her in a chair so he could be nearby if she needed him during the night.

Everything since then had been leading to this moment. From finding out he shared a name with her late brother to attending Jenny’s wedding and meeting her parents to hours on the phone and FaceTime to their reunion last night, they’d been building something rare and fragile, something to be treasured and nurtured.

His worries about shackles now seemed foolish in light of what she’d shared with him. This, the way he felt when he was with her, was why men allowed themselves to be caught. He sat on the foot of the bed, waiting for his turn in the bathroom and debating whether he should leave his shirt on or take it off. To hell with it. She’d seen him shirtless earlier. He shed the shirt, laying it over a chair when he might’ve dropped it on the floor at home.

Returning to the foot of the bed, he propped his elbows on his knees and dropped his head, rolling it from side to side to relieve the tension in his neck. He felt like he was on unsteady ground with her, which was rare. Usually there were few mysteries in his dealings with women. They went out, they had fun, sometimes they had sex, sometimes they didn’t. That routine had worked for him. But now… Everything was different, and this situation reminded him of being with the only girl he’d ever loved, back in high school, when he hadn’t the first clue what she expected from him.

Unlike then, when the uncertainty had led to anxiety, now it turned him on. Being with Erin felt brand-new, like he was just waking up from a nearly twenty-year nap to find a whole new world waiting to be discovered. And now she had him waxing poetic, he thought with a grunt of laughter at the direction his thoughts had taken.

She came out of the bathroom wearing an oversized T-shirt that left her long legs bare for his perusal. “I don’t own anything that might be considered sexy,” she said, her expression so vulnerable his chest ached with longing.

“Yes, you do. You’re wearing it.” He stood and went to her, kissing her forehead on his way into the bathroom, where he splashed cold water on his face and brushed his teeth. Then he took a minute to catch his breath, to calm the rapid beat of his heart. His attraction to her was unprecedented.