Safety

Paige

Tom kissed me back just as hard, just as hungry. Every press of his lips read like a promise.

I am here. I am bigger than anything that could hurt you. I will let you fight your battles, but you will never stand alone.

He took a few steps forward and crushed my back against one of the four posters of our bed. The wood pressed into my skin, warm and familiar. I gasped into his mouth, pinned between the solidity of him and our home. He took advantage of the brief distance between our mouths to rip my shirt and sweatshirt off over my head. Then, his jaw went slack.

I blushed. Earlier in the night, I thought it might be nice to greet him when he came home in something a little sexier than the boxers and T-shirt I wore to bed, so I’d pulled out a set of lingerie I’d purchased on a whim last month. The bra—if it could really be called that—cupped my breasts in almost completely sheer, deep red lace.

“No.” He shook his head. “Don’t blush. You’re perfect. You’re goddamn beautiful.”

He