I forced a grin. “I thought I gave you your Christmas gift this morning.”
The reminder of what I’d done—showing him how I found my own pleasure—what he’d asked me to do, returned a smile to his expression. Van’s gaze lowered to where my thighs were held together and back to my eyes. “You did and watching you touch yourself was beautiful.” He eased my knees apart and moved between them. “You’re stunning. I guess I’m greedy because I want more.”
My hands covered his upon my thighs. “You have my trust, Van.”
“Do I?”
I pressed my lips together as I gave the question more thought.
He did.
Van’s long fingers gripped my thighs through my slacks as his eyes pleaded. “Believe in me, Julia. Trust me. I’ve spent most of my life closed off, hiding who I am. I show the world one person, but that’s not really me.”
Thoughts of Van in his suit, in his mountain-man clothes, the man who chopped down a Christmas tree flashed through my mind.
He went on, “I’ve stayed closed off, alone, and in the dark.”
“Van.”
His head shook. “Closed off is fucking easier than being open with you, but damn it, I’m trying.” He moved his hands, taking mine into his grasp. “You are light.”
Squeezing my hands, he took a deep breath.
I couldn’t look away from the kaleidoscope of emotions swirling in the green and gold of his eyes if I tried.
His volume rose. “The light, Julia. That is you. Bright and beautiful. You’re the damn sun. Do you know what happens when the sun rises?” He didn’t let me answer. “It chases away the darkness. Your light will expose parts of me that haven’t been seen in years, decades” —he shrugged— “or quite possibly—ever. I don’t want to scare you, but I also won’t lie to you. Some of what you’ll learn and see won’t be pretty. Some things I’ve done are downright grotesque.”
His sincerity radiated in our touch. I heard it in his words and saw it in his expression. “I’m not scared.”
“You should be.” He took a deep breath, his chest inflating. “But know this, you won’t be exposed to those things alone. I’ll be with you, by your side forever.” His grip of my hands tightened. “I won’t let you go. You’re mine. I found you.” Lifting my hands, he brushed my palms with his lips, his kisses gentler than his grip. “What I’m asking of you is to be with me, trust me, and allow me the time to go slow, revealing the ugly truths most likely slower than you may want.”
The lump forming in my throat grew bigger with each of his phrases. There were mysteries to this man, ones I would learn with time. However, it was the emotion I saw, heard, and felt that overwhelmed me. I was seeing Donovan Sherman exposed.
By the time he finished speaking, words failed me. I nodded as a lone tear slid down my cheek.
Van’s arms pulled me close, tugging me from the chair into his embrace. Together, we fell onto the tile floor in a tangle of limbs until I was on my back, and he was over me. His handsome face was inches from mine, his arms supporting his torso above me while the length of his body and the hardness of his erection pressed between my legs.
Only our clothing stopped us from becoming one.
Brushing stray strands of my hair away from my face, Van asked, “Can you give me that?”
I nodded. “Trust and time.”
“Yes.” His chest vibrated as he let out a breath.
I grinned. “I don’t need all the answers this minute—we have forever, right?”
“Forever.”
His lips met mine as heat replaced the earlier anguish. Upon the hard kitchen floor, his hands roamed as his kiss deepened. Pulling apart from me, he asked, “Are you hungry?”
“I was, but now I’m hungry for something else.”