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When they finally broke apart, neither of them went far. Her hand stayed in his hair, his arm stayed around her waist, and their faces were close enough for him to feel the soft brush of her breath against his skin.

For a moment, he stared at her, knowing exactly what he wanted but needing to hear that she wanted it too. “Come to bed with me?”

The teasing that had filled most of the evening was gone from her expression, replaced by an intensity that made his heart thud against his ribs.

“Yes.”

The answer sent another surge of desire through him, but it came with anticipation and nerves. Leah had been the last woman he'd taken upstairs. In all the years since her death, he'd never brought anyone else home—not while he was raising Rissa. Crossing that line with Amanda made tonight feel more significant than he'd expected.

He kissed her once more, then rose and offered his hand. She took it without hesitation, and he helped her up from the couch. For a moment, they stood facing each other in the living room’s muted light, the music drifting in from the kitchen. Then he led her out of the living room.

Amanda followed him upstairs, her fingers entwined with his. He'd made that trip thousands of times over the years, but tonight he was acutely aware of every step, every small sound in the house, and the woman accompanying him to his bedroom for the first time.

A nightstand lamp cast a soft glow across the room. Amanda stopped just inside the doorway and took in her surroundings. For a second, he wondered what she thought. There was nothing remarkable about the space. A king-sized bed, a dresser, and the familiar furnishings he'd lived with for years. Earlier, he'd tucked the photographs of Leah into a drawer. He hadn't done it to forget her. He simply hadn't wanted Amanda to feel uncomfortable or as though she were intruding on memories that belonged to another woman. Whatever happened between them, and however much time they had left, tonight was theirs.

When she turned toward him, her expression showed no uncertainty. His nerves, however, were another matter, and she must have sensed his hesitation. This wasn't a one-night stand. At least, he didn't want it to be. That realization caught him off guard. They hadn't known each other long, yet he was already hoping for something more than a few weeks together. The problem was, their time had an end date, and neither of them knew what would happen afterward.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It's just been a while since I've done this.”

Her features softened. She stepped closer and rested her hands against his chest. “Same here. But we don't have to rush anything.”

“I know.” He brushed a strand of hair away from her cheek. “But I want you.”

“I want you too.”

He bent his head and kissed her, taking his time. Her arms slipped around his neck, and she moved closer until they were pressed together. He felt her smile against his mouth as his hand caressed her back.

“What?” he murmured.

“Nothing.” She touched his cheek. “I'm just happy I'm here.”

He understood that feeling better than he could put into words. For so long, his bedroom had been somewhere he went at the end of the day, a place to sleep before getting up and doing it all over again. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed having someone to share those ordinary, private moments with until Amanda stood in front of him.

He kissed her forehead, then her temple, and finally returned to her lips. This time, when she drew him closer, he followed without hesitation.

Outside, a breeze stirred the branches beyond the bedroom window. Somewhere downstairs, the music continued playing, too faint now for him to recognize the song. He reached past her to close the door, then turned back to the woman who had somehow changed the direction of his life in a matter of weeks.

She took his hand and guided him toward the bed. Grady followed her, enjoying how comfortable she seemed taking the lead.

At the edge of the mattress, she turned to face him, caught the front of his shirt, and drew him into another kiss. He rested his hands on her hips, then slid them around her waist as she leaned against him.

He felt her warmth through the thin fabric of her blouse, and the slow, deliberate way she moved against him made his breath catch. When she finally broke the kiss, her fingers went to the buttons of his shirt. She took her time, slipping each one free with a patience that made him ache, and when she pushed the fabric off his shoulders, he let it fall to the floor.

Her hands spread across his chest, palms cool against his overheated skin, drawing goosebumps to the surface. She leaned in to press her mouth to the hollow of his throat. He closed his eyes, his hands tightening at her waist, and let himself feel every small sensation—the brush of her hair against his jaw, the soft exhale of her breath, the slow trail of her fingertips down his ribs.

Reaching for the hem of her knitted top, he looked into her eyes, asking a silent question. She nodded and lifted her arms. He drew it up and off, dropping it beside his shirt.

For a moment he simply stared at her, at the soft light falling across her shoulders, the curve of her collarbone, the way her chest rose and fell with quickened breath. She was beautiful, and she was here, and he still couldn't quite believe it.

She closed the distance again, and while her palms had been cool against his chest, the rest of her skin was warm as she pressed against him and kissed him. His chest tightened as his control slipped a notch. She sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled him down with her.

They stretched out together on the bed, their limbs shifting together as they made room for each other. He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on one elbow. Amanda lay facing him, her hair spread across the pillow. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of her, still amazed that the woman who’d driven him crazy from the moment they met was now in his bed.

He traced her jawline with his thumb, then bent to kiss her again, slower this time, deeper. Her hands moved over his back, his shoulders, mapping him with the same attention he'd given her, and when she hooked one leg over his hip, drawing him closer, he groaned against her mouth.

He wanted to take his time, to memorize every response, the catch of her breath, and the places that made her arch against him. But his body had other ideas, urgency building with each touch and every shift of her beneath him.