She smacked his gut lightly. “Not ever.”

“Good,” he said with satisfaction. He kissed her temple and felt her relax the tiniest bit. He was gentling her and he knew that she was aware of this. He shifted with a wince. “I wasn’t kidding about wanting you, Mercy Callahan. I feel like I’m a teenager again, and not in a good way.”

“Good,” she echoed with satisfaction. “That’s something, at least.”

He tipped her chin up so that she met his eyes. “What do you want?”

She swallowed hard, her expression abruptly vulnerable. “I don’t want to feel afraid anymore. I don’t want to feel like I’m missing out on what normal women do with men they’re attracted to.”

That was honest. Not exactly what he’d hoped to hear, but it was a start. “And you want that with me.”

Another swallow followed by the slightest of nods. “I wanted it when I was here before. You make me want things that I never thought I would.”

Okay, that was much better. His ego puffed up and he had to fight the urge to preen. But she’d been honest and he could be no less. “Thank you for telling me. I thought I’d destroyed everything when I kissed you and you ran back to New Orleans. I thought I’d never see you again and I only had myself to blame.”

“I was scared,” she admitted. “You made me feel safe and I don’t think I’d ever felt that before. You still do, by the way. Make me feel safe, I mean.”

He closed his eyes at that, relief making him dizzy. “I’m glad,” he said gruffly. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I don’t ever want you to feel like I’ve taken your choices. I don’t ever want you to run from me again. I couldn’t handle it, Mercy.”

She brushed the back of her fingers against the scruff of his jaw. “I didn’t mean to hurt you when I left before. I didn’t mean to hurt you tonight. It was just . . .” She sighed. “I sat at your family’s table tonight and felt all that love and strength and knew that I could have some of it. That I could take it freely.”

“But?”

“No ‘but.’ Not really. I thought to myself, ‘You have this with the Romeros. They love you and support you.’ But it felt different and I realized the difference was you. So instead of spending the drive back here thinking about everything I’d just unloaded at your parents’ kitchen table, I thought about you. But I didn’t stop to consider what you might be feeling, and I’m sorry for that.”

The difference was you. He was terrified to speak. Terrified he’d say the wrong thing and she’d run away again. But then she stroked his face, her touch butterfly light, and the words spilled out. “I feel more than you’re ready for.”

He opened his eyes when she tapped his chin, a little harder than was truly necessary. Her face was set in a scowl, her mouth pinched on one side. “Are you even listening to me, Rafe Sokolov?”