“Yeah, sure. Nirvana, huh? Looks a little nicer than what I was going to be able to offer on the fly.”

“Yeah, well, it was in a bridesmaid gift awhile back.”

He nodded. “I’m good with that. Wearing it, I mean. And about the bed. In case it comes across a little teenage boy, there was a frame and box spring till last fall when it got too hard for Samson to get up and down.”

She brushed one fingertip over the ridge of his chin, savoring the hint of roughness. “I figured as much.”

Suddenly it seemed everything had been said, and it grew quiet enough to hear Samson on the other side of the door chomping on the chew he’d been given.

She swallowed back a laugh that would probably sound a touch hysterical if it slipped out. “Just a heads-up—if you don’t start kissing me soon, I think I’m going to lose it.”

Gabe didn’t need any further encouragement. He leaned forward, and her legs opened reflexively as his body pressed against hers. His mouth met hers in a kiss with pressure as light as when he’d swept his fingers through her hair. Soon their tongues and hunger for more deepened it, and Olivia found herself sinking back onto the mattress.

She was glad when her blood started to boil again and those capable hands caressed her in all the right places, turning the soft heat into an inferno and helping her fight back the three little words that had been doing their best to push to the surface. Three little words that should never be said to someone she’d only known a single week. Three little words that were suddenly the biggest truth she knew, even when they remained unspoken.

He slipped her shirt over her head, and their eyes met. He gifted her with a little wink before his mouth found her neck. Olivia lost her fingers in his hair and wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer. The light was on, and if he looked, he’d see all her imperfections.

But enmeshed in that same feeling that had her wanting to shout out those three words that couldn’t be taken back was the confidence that even if he noticed them, he wouldn’t care, solidifying their truth even more.

She loved the way he was with his dog and with her. Loved that he’d found his calling in the throes of tragedy. Loved the small cleft in his chin, the sheepish grin that popped up when she didn’t expect it, and the brilliance of his bright, playful eyes. Loved listening to the couple of voicemails he’d left when she didn’t have her phone and looking at the flowers on her desk that he’d dropped off at school.