His next breath was labored as he stared down at me in open wonder. “You are so damn beautiful, it physically hurts to look at you,” he groaned, his hand adjusting himself in his pants.

Nervously, I licked my bottom lip. “I-I should sh-shower.”

He took a step back, lifting his hand toward the connecting bathroom door. “Everything you need should be in there.”

I stood, but I couldn’t stop myself from purposely brushing against him, wanting to torture us both a little more. “You’re not going to…join me?”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “No,” he rasped.

“Oh,” I murmured, disappointed. My shoulders drooped, and I turned toward the bathroom.

Ryan caught my wrist and jerked me back around, catching me off-balance and causing me to fall against him. He wrapped his other arm around my waist, locking me against his hard body. Releasing my wrist, he grasped my chin between his thumb and index finger, tilting my head to meet his gaze. “I nearly lost my head earlier, baby. I want you so badly, every inch of my body aches. But it’s best if we take this slow.”

“You know the age of consent is seventeen in the state of New York, right?”

“Age of consent doesn’t matter to me. Not fucking this up is all I’m worried about.” He stroked his fingers down my throat and across my collarbone, leaving a trail of goose bumps along the way. “When we finally make love, I want it to be special, Nova.”

My bottom lip pouted out at him. “What can be more special than admitting to each other how we really feel?”

He skimmed his thumb over my mouth. “I promise you, I’ll make it even more special. Trust me to take care of you, my heart.”

I leaned into his touch and kissed the pad of his thumb. “I trust you.”

“Go shower. I’ll get us something to eat from the kitchen.” He dropped his hand to my hip, flexing his fingers on my ass. “Grab something out of my closet to wear when you’re done.”

Giving a reluctant nod, I tried to step back, but his fingers bit into my flesh harder, holding me in place. That he was having a hard time letting me move away from him when he was the one who said we needed to take things slow made me melt against him.

“I love you,” he whispered against the shell of my ear.

I grabbed a handful of his shirt, holding on to him as hard as he was holding me, and lifted my gaze to meet his. All my life, I’d known he loved me. I’d never once doubted that, but this was the first time he’d actually said the words. I couldn’t remember hearing him ever saying them to anyone, not even his mom. But for some reason, I’d never needed them to know I was just as special to him as Anya was. Maybe even more so.

To him, they were the three most powerful words a person could speak in any language. They showed enemies that person’s ultimate weakness but also left them open for the most painful of rejections.