My hands had fisted in Crosby’s shirt, evidence of my desperation. I should’ve been embarrassed, mortified, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. The only thing I cared about was holding on to that flicker of feeling that had sparked in me when Crosby’s lips met mine. That spark seemed to drown out all of the nothingness I’d been feeling for the past two weeks.

I should’ve been relieved at the numbness. I wasn’t at risk for letting emotion swallow me whole, for being like my mother, for scaring others away. But instead of relishing the numbness, it terrified me. And I would’ve given anything to just feel.

Crosby backed me up, his broad body making its way into my home, pressing against me. I wanted to feel every inch of it. I wanted him to pin me to the bed and not let me up for hours. The hunger flashing through my veins was different from anything I’d ever felt before.

“Bedroom?” Crosby’s voice was deeper somehow, gruffer, and the tone skittered across my skin in the most enticing way. I inclined my head to the left. He paused in his crowding of me, eyes locking with mine. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.” There was a faint tremble in my voice, but whatever Crosby was looking for, he seemed to find because I was swept off my feet in an instant. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as his lips met mine again.

We lost ourselves in the kiss, tongues tangling, teeth nipping lips. Crosby cursed as he ran into a wall, and I burst out laughing. “I missed hearing that sound.”

I stilled as Crosby entered my bedroom. “What sound?”

“Your laugh. The real one.”

Crosby slowly lowered me to the floor, a delicious friction skimming my nerve-endings as he did so. “My real one?” The question was embarrassingly breathless.

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You have your polite laugh. The one you give the world most of the time. But there’s this other one. It mostly comes out around Bell or Caelyn, the kids sometimes. It’s raw and real. You aren’t afraid of being too loud or worried about who’s around. I love that laugh.”

I fought the urge to squirm in front of this man who clearly saw too much. Maybe this was a bad idea. Crosby’s hands skimmed down my neck, dusting over my shoulders. His fingers swept across my nipples, circling them as they peaked and pressed into the thin fabric of my tank top. It might be a bad idea, but I was going to enjoy every second of it.