Her breath caught. “But if we don’t make love,” she asked, so innocently, “how can we christen it?”
Oh, sweet, sweet Tessa.
I bit back a groan, my forehead falling against hers. “You’d be surprised, babe,” I whispered, half laughing, half trembling. “There are so many things I can do to you that don’t involve making love.”
Before she could ask, I lifted her into my arms. She let out a startled gasp, her hands gripping my shoulders as I carried her toward her old room.
The moment I pushed the door open, a wave of old scents hit me — cedarwood, lavender, faint traces of her perfume. The bed was small, the walls still covered in drawings and faded posters, the window cracked open just enough to let the cool air seep in.
It was so her.
I kicked the door closed behind us and lowered her g
