They were skin to skin, and she reveled in the closeness and the feel of hard muscle against her body. She drew her hand down his chest muscles, across his abs, stopping only to undo the button to his jeans. She looked him in the eye. “I’m not stopping.”

His eyes darkened as he ran his hands down her sides, grazing the sides of her breasts, enticing her yet closer. He bent slightly and lifted her, turning, so when he laid her down, her bare back found plush carpet and not cold tile. She could feel his restraint as he gently kissed her face and neck.

“Daniel.” She cupped his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. “Don’t hold back.” Breath escaped him as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. When he opened them again, they were loving, but hurt and angry all at the same time. She felt his grief, and she saw his healing. She brought his face to hers and kissed him fiercely with all the love she had. As if she could infuse love and strength into him with her kiss, and his pain would go away.

He responded with his mouth and hands roaming her body. He kissed her face, her neck, and when he approached her ear, he whispered, “You make me feel like I can breathe.”

Annika gripped his bare shoulders, pulling him closer as she met his eyes once more. She’d never forget the way he looked at her right now. “So, breathe.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

DANIEL

WHEN DANIEL WOKE, it was to find himself pleasantly entangled in Annika’s arms and legs. At some point they had made it to her bed, and he was surrounded by her scent, fruity and bold, uniquely Annika. She held him with a fierceness he had never known, and when he turned to her, he was met with big brown eyes and that sassy mouth curved into a smile. “Hey.”

He turned and pulled her on top of him, where she leaned her forearms on his bare chest to look at him. “Hey, yourself.”

“You’re still here.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Do you want to leave?”

“Not really.”

“So, stay.” She smiled. And he melted. “Daniel?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened after all that?” She looked him in the eye. “Did you ever talk to someone?”

“No, I—” He looked past her, up at the ceiling. “Sheila couldn’t get out of bed for months. She stopped going to work, stopped seeing her friends, everything she loved.” Annika shifted so she was lying next to him. He turned to face her. “I was the husband, the fath—” He shrugged. “I took the job on the chopper. I cooked. Forced Sheila to eat. Paid the bills. That was my job.” That was what men did. They handled business. Right?

“Yes, but didn’t you go to therapy?”