as him, “We should go inside,” she said. “We’re probably messing up their dinner.”
Honestly, he didn’t give a shit about Claire, Spence, CJ, and Baine’s dinners.
He had the woman he loved in his arms, and she’d taken a huge step today. She’d been vulnerable and still let him in, trusted her with his heart. Ben knew exactly how big of a gift that was.
Because of that he didn’t release her, not yet anyway. Instead, he wove his fingers into her hair and tilted her head back so that he could see her face. “Only if you do one thing for me.”
She lifted her brows.
“No more apologies.”
Those brows dragged together.
“You apologize too much for things that aren’t your fault.”
“I’m—”
“Uh-uh,” he said, bopping her on the nose. “No sorries.”
“I wasn’t going to apologize,” she huffed. “I was just going to say that I’m so glad you came back that day. That you’re here in my life and—”
They needed to go inside.
But fuck if he could stop himself from kissing her again.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Stef
Come Monday, she still hadn’t told Ben about Chance, about her parents and the twisted turn her childhood had taken.
Not because she was avoiding it.
But because Ben had kept her so busy in bed and at the beach and then watching an early release for a new movie Hunt was releasing. It was top secret, but he’d told her about it the week before. It featured a couple of Hollywood A-listers Stef loved, and he’d told her he’d had to beg, borrow, and practically steal the copy, just so he could bring the DVD home so she could see it. Despite the challenge, he’d brought it all the same, and she’d coaxed him into watching it twice (and crying both times).
And did she mention he’d kept her busy in bed? Because he’d been absolutely ravenous. Not that she hadn’t been—wasn’t—the same, needing him with an intensity that was all-consuming.
She was.
She looked at him, saw his smile, and she was wet.
Desire and orgasms aside, she’d decided that today would be the day. Her past was heavy. It was stifling. Not the topic for normal dinner time conversation. But she found that she needed to let that burden go.
Finally, she needed to be done with it.
So, she’d explain, tell him about her parents and Chance, about how she’d searched for her worth and value in other places.
And how she had finally begun to accept that her value came first from her.
Because Ben had given her the patience and kindness to understand that. By him seeing her value, loving her for being herself and not the over-the-top caregiver she’d been with Jeremy; nor the small, quiet, trying to never step a toe out of line girl she’d been with her parents; not even the everything was fine young woman she’d been with her college boyfriends and afterward, she found that worth.
She was done with always doing things for everyone but herself.
Done with thinking that doing something for herself, or wanting something, or saying no would be selfish when everyone else needed it more.
Because it was different with Ben.
He took care of her, making sure to give back what she offered freely . . . and that had opened doors inside her heart she had never risked cracking before, doors that had been slammed and locked for many years. He made her understand that a relationship could be different, that they could have give and take. It wasn’t always perfectly equal, sometimes one person gave or took more, but when everything was averaged, their relationship wasn’t lopsided.
Because he never took more than his fair share. In fact, if she were being truthful, she would say that he’d given more.
Tonight, however, would be different.
It was her turn to give more.
Smiling, she took the exit. She was heading back to her place after work, Fred in the back seat. She’d filled the Crock-Pot that morning with the one recipe for dinner that she couldn’t fuck up, and she was going to feed the man, give him a glorious orgasm, and then pass over the final pieces of her, offer them up on a silver platter.
And she was going to hope that he didn’t dump them on the floor.
Her stomach twisted, worry sliding through her.
“No,” she gritted, gripping the steering wheel. “He’s not going to do that. He’s a good man and—Ugh, Fred!”
Her pup had licked her ear and she cringed, trying to drive as she wiped it on her shoulder, and not having much success. Luckily, she