Page 225 of Rush

“I don’t know if I’m ready. What if…”

What if you change your mind? What if I lose you too and then I have nothing—not even this?

I breathe, staring into his eyes. Those mesmerizing green eyes.

“Elena,” he says, steadily, “I care for you too.”

He looks at me like he sees every doubt written on my skin.

“But I needmorefrom you.”

That hits something inside me.

Something broken and vulnerable.

“We’ve done this all backwards,” he says, softer now, pressing his forehead to mine. “None of this has been normal.”

“I’m sorry.”

I sink into his chest, my cheek against his heartbeat.

The bubbles dance around us.

“Can’t we just enjoy this for now and figure all that out later?” I plead, desperate to land back in safe territory.

“We can try,” he says. “But you know we’ve crossed past the point of casual, right?”

“I can only try,” I say quietly, not sure I can admit the truth to him or myself. “But I need time.”

“There’s no rush, we have all night,” he says.

“I need to take itslow.”

Broderick laughs—his chest shaking against mine. “Sweetheart,” he says, tugging my chin up to look at him. “Slow? I know you biblically. Slow, how?”

I roll my eyes, but the corner of my mouth twitches.

He grins, brushing a wet strand of hair off my cheek. “I’m serious. We’ve had sex in half the rooms of my apartment. You cooked for me in lingerie. We’re constantly breaking your rules.”

I bite my lip, trying not to smile.

“Slow,” he repeats, cocking his head like he’s genuinely trying to figure it out. “Does that mean I have to start asking permission to spank you now?”

I smack his chest.

He catches my wrist, then presses a small kiss to the inside of my palm before placing it over his heart.

“Take all the time you need, I’m not asking for much—just a chance.”

I don’t answer. I can’t. Instead, I curl tighter against him, letting the bubbles hum around us, letting my body rest for the first time in days.

Then, after a long beat, he speaks again—quiet, almost careful.

“Let me take you out.”

I lift my head and blink at him. “Like…a date?”

“A proper date,” he says, the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Dinner. Somewhere nice. No funny business.”