“I can’t speak to Jude and Rafe. Not knowing their stories, I mean.” He smiled. “Touché again.” “But for you…” He lifted a dark eyebrow. “For me?” “Jury’s still out.” He clutched his heart like I’d wounded him. “I deserve that.” “And more,” I said. “And more.” He leaned back, seemed to relax. “It’s okay. I can wait.” “For what?” He closed his eyes. “Whatever you’re willing to give me, sweetheart.” The words sounded strangely suggestive — and even more terrifying than a base jump.
