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“I don’t want to cause him pain,” she said softly. “You’re not. You’re teaching him that not all hands hurt.”
“This is going to blow everything up.” I met her gaze. “Sometimes, a little destruction is a good thing.”
“You’re touching me.” There was wonder in her tone that had my brows pulling together. “Would you rather I didn’t?” Shiloh’s gaze flew to mine. “Don’t let go.” “I promise. I won’t let go.”
“It doesn’t hurt,” she whispered. “What doesn’t?” “You touching me.” I fought the urge to rear back—only decades with horses kept me from doing so. The training that kept me from reacting strongly when I got knocked sideways. “You thought it would?” “It always does. Whenever someone touches me. It…it’s like it grates against my skin.” I bit back a million different curses. “Tell me if it’s too much.” She shook her head back and forth. “It’s not.”
“I like having you here. I think I needed it just as much as you did.” The truth of those words hit somewhere deep in my chest, burning. But it was a beautiful kind of pain. One I welcomed. One that belonged only to Shiloh.
“You’re amazing, you know that? Pure fire.” I looked up into those onyx eyes. “Only for the people who matter.” And I burned the brightest for one person. Him.
“I don’t think there’s a word for it in the English language. But it burns through me. And I don’t want to ever let it go.”
“Can I touch you?” His eyes flared, a dark heat pooling there. “You touch whatever you damn well please.”
“I could never regret you. Even when it hurts, I want to feel that pain because you make me remember that I’m alive.”
“My pinpricks of hope on the darkest nights. You are that in living form for me. You always will be. And I think we can be that for the boys, too.”
