My emotions must have been more transparent than I expected, because she'd driven right to the heart of my thoughts.
“Thanks,” I said.
Ava let out a little sigh and wiggled her shoulders. While Sera turned off the princess movie with the remote, I wrapped my arms around Ava's shoulders and hefted her into my arms. She lay completely limp against me, her head on my shoulder, and I couldn't deny that feeling her weight gave me a father's reassurance. There was something about being able to carry her up the stairs and tuck her into bed that felt like a win. Maybe because my own father couldn't have. Maybe because I had her in my life, now. When Sadie was alive, this sort of simple routine had never been an option.
Which meant that Serafina had a point.
I was doing okay, and I did love Ava. Things as a single father were stressful and imperfect, but they'd been blind and terrifying when Sadie kept Ava from me. When she told lies that I knew were lies but couldn't prove. I'd much rather have stress and imperfection than what it had been.
As I slipped the covers over her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, I knew that I'd never change anything. Even if Ava continued to be weird with me, I'd love her. Even if she chose Serafina over me, I'd love her.
When I slipped out of Ava's room, Serafina still stood in the middle of the room, muttering something under her breath as she jabbed at the remote with her thumb.
“Stupid thing.”
It might have been the positive parenting moment that I'd just had upstairs, or the power of the night with unfiltered Serafina and a happy Ava. Or it may have just been a gradual weakening of my guard that had finally given way. But I jogged down the stairs, strode over, and took the remote from her hands. Then I didn't give her hands back.
With one press, I had the TV off and the remote tossed on the couch. The only light in the room came from the slight glow of Ava's night light upstairs and the light from around the corner of the light over the stove. My palms held Sera's hands in mine, and I could feel her breath in the stillness that followed.
“Thanks,” she whispered, but I couldn't remember why.
My hand lifted, brushing a stray hair away from her face. The tip of my finger traced the edge of her face. I felt like a totally different man. Distantly aware of every move I made, but watching as if I were someone else. As if I wasn't going against all wisdom. As if I wasn't planning on laying the deepest kiss on her lips that I could possibly imagine.
“Sera,” I whispered.
Her breath hitched as I lowered my face until I was close enough to feel the burn of her heat. My hand settled on her neck, my thumb tracing her cheekbone. The bruise from her brother was a light shadow now.
Being this close to her had never felt this good in my dreams the past few nights, and I thought my dreams would never be as good as reality. When her hair rustled as she tilted her head back to look into my eyes, the sweet scent of coconut rose with it.
My other arm snaked around her back and pulled her into me. She sucked in a sharp breath as I gently pulled her chest into mine, careful of her rib. She hesitated, then set her hands on my shoulders. I could feel the imprint of each of her fingers burn into me.
“Tell me now if you want me to stop,” I whispered thickly, “and I will let you go. But if you tell me otherwise, I want to do what I've been dying to do since you walked in the gym.”
Her eyes were mere glimmers in the darkness as she studied me, and I wondered what she saw. Did she fear me like she feared her brother? Did she want me to ravish her with a kiss that would burn us both?
How could she not feel this power between us?
Words came to her lips, but never materialized. She seemed locked in a battle until her hand slipped across my collar bone and onto my neck. I shivered at the heat of her palm on my open skin.
Her hand came to my face next, the palm resting against my cheek. Starved for the touch, I