“I love you,” I choked out against his warm chest.
In answer, Caine gently pulled me away, just far enough so he could look into my face. I was tearstained, swollen-faced, and exhausted. I was a mess. But he stared at me as if I were the only person in the room, and as if I was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. His voice was gruff as he confessed, “I love you too.”
My arms tightened in reflex around him, and a renewed determination pulsed into my veins. “Let’s go home so we can rest. We’ve got a couple of bastards to deal with who need a lesson in manners.”
Amusement curled the corners of Caine’s mouth. “There she is,” he murmured in satisfaction.
CHAPTER 32
It felt like hours before we were allowed to go home. Once we set foot in Boston we were hustled to the police station, where we had to answer all the same questions all over again. By the time a cab dropped us off at Caine’s apartment, I was deadweight.
Caine practically carried me upstairs to his bed. When I flopped down on it he wearily but patiently set about taking off my boots and jeans. I managed to shrug out of my jacket and throw it on the floor while Caine jerked the covers down so I could slide my legs under. The last thing I remembered was Caine getting in beside me and gently pulling me into his arms.
The next morning the sunlight peeked in through the blinds and woke me up. I was sprawled across Caine, unconsciously uncaring of my injury, my head resting on his bare stomach.
My arm was draped across his upper chest and shoulder, and his fingers were drawing little soothing circles on my right biceps.
“You’re awake,” I said, the words coming out croaky.
His other hand slid down my back to my hip. “Yeah.”
Lifting myself off him long enough to look at him, I assessed him carefully. Having heard it in his voice, I wasn’t surprised to see the wariness in his expression. My stomach flipped uneasily. “Please don’t.”
He squeezed my hip, understanding without having to ask. “I’m not. I just want to make sure you understand what you’re getting into here with me.”
“I’m getting what I deserve,” I said, and I meant every word. “And so are you.”
Caine moved slowly, easing me onto my back so he could brace himself over me. His gaze moved over my face, and every feeling he had for me blazed in his eyes. It moved me so much I was breathless.
“Don’t you get it?” he said, his voice gruff with emotion. “I’ve never met anyone like you before. There’s no one like you. I keep waiting to not feel like this, because there are times I can’t bear it. To care this much. To worry about you day in and day out, even before the attack. I love you so fucking much. I sometimes … I feel consumed by it. Griff and Don called me as soon as you left the building yesterday, and I felt it. That panic. Like the panic I felt when you went down in my arms and I saw the blood. I felt like I was going to come apart at the seams. I didn’t know how I was going to survive it if something happened to you.”
“Caine,” I whispered, overwhelmed by his confession, but relieved too. I was relieved to know that I wasn’t the only one in this who felt so deeply, so strongly.
“I got back to the apartment, I saw your note, and I called everyone I could think of that could help me get a private flight to Connecticut because I was terrified of what might happen to you. But also because”—his voice grew even more hoarse—“when you asked me to stay away from you in your note, it finally hit me. You meant it. You weren’t going to try anymore. I’d run out of chances, and I realized that the night before would be the last time I ever saw you. And I couldn’t … The whole time on that plane I … I kept thinking to myself if I could just get to you I would tell you I loved you and I’d get to keep you. I’m that selfish.”
“You’re not selfish.”
“I am … and every morning I’m going to wake up feeling like this.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m cheating somehow. Like I’ve stolen something.”
I reached up to smooth away his frown lines. “No more talking about how you don’t deserve me.”
“But I don’t.”
It didn’t take a psychologist to realize that Caine’s fears about his self-worth came from abandonment, his shame at what his ambition had led him to do, and the women who had used him. He was a complex mix of confidence and insecurities. I didn’t know if he could ever work through those insecurities, but I was going to do my best to help him try.
“I also don’t want to make the same mistakes my father made.”
“What do you mean?”
“He loved my mother beyond anything else. He loved her so damn much he had her wrapped up tight and protected in his world. He loved her so much he couldn’t see past it to the fact that the woman he loved was desperate to be free. She wanted more. She wanted adventure.”
Light dawned.
Finally I got to the real crux of his problem. Cupping his face in my hands, I poured every ounce of feeling into what I was about to say so that he would never doubt my words. “I am not your mother. I’m not looking for something else from life. I’m not looking for more. I’m not looking for a great adventure. I’m not looking, because I found it. You are my more. You are my great adventure.”
Caine stared at me in wonder. “I can’t believe that after everything I put you through you’re still here.”