Page 98 of How To Tempt A Bodyguard

His arms came around her slowly, then tightened until she could barely breathe. His cheek rested against her hair. She felt the tension in his body, the way he held her like she might vanish if he let go.

"You impossible man," she whispered against his coat.

"I know."

"You, stubborn, infuriating, impossible man."

"I know."

She pulled back just enough to look at him. His eyes were uncertain, searching her face.

"The letter," she said. "What you wrote."

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

"It was beautiful, Matthew. The words went straight to my heart."

He blinked.

"But you walking back into that hell for me…" Her voice cracked. She steadied it. "I know you love me now. I know."

The wall he'd been holding up crumbled. She saw it in his expression.

"Florence."

"You love in the best way possible." She gripped his coat. "You've been showing me love all along, and I was too blind to see it."

His eyes widened, swallowed again.

"You should have talked to me." Her voice hardened. "You should have woken me and told me your plan instead of leaving a letter."

He shifted his weight side to side. "I'm sorry. I thought I was protecting you."

"From Carrick, yes." She released his coat, stepped back. "But not from a broken heart."

The colour drained from his face.

"I’m sorry. I didn't mean—"

"I know." She drew a shaky breath. "But I’m a woman, not a helpless cub. "

"I know that."

"Treat me like a partner."

Matthew nodded. "You're right. I was wrong."

She lightly poked him in the chest. "If you ever leave me like that again, Matthew Carrick, I will hunt you down and make you regret it."

The corner of his mouth twitched, and his eyes darkened. "I look forward it."

Florence swiped at his him playfully, feeling the heat rise to her face.

Matthew reached across for her hand. "Whatever is here," he pressed her hand over his heart, "it's yours. All of it."

Florence's eyes burned with fresh tears. She blinked them back.

She reached up and touched his face. His stubble was rough against her palm. "And for the record, I don't need poetry. I don't need moonlight dances or whispered endearments. I just need you to stay. To talk to me. To let me stand beside you instead of behind you."