Love Rents A Room
Chapter 85: Her Trust In Him

Chapter 85: Her Trust In Him

Jeffrey’s jaw tensed. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. "...I—"

Her gaze narrowed.

That meant no.

The thought should have sent a surge of panic through her, but instead, a soft giggle escaped her lips. "Never mind," she said, waving it off casually before pressing herself against him again.

His brows lifted slightly. He knew he was clear of any STDs, and it had been a while since he’d last been with someone. But what surprised him most was her reaction—her complete lack of concern over the possibility of pregnancy.

"You’re... sure?" he asked, his voice laced with curiosity.

She hummed in amusement. "Mm-hmm." Then, with a teasing glint in her eye, she whispered, "I’m going to trap you if I get pregnant."

Jeffrey instantly leaned back, searching her face. "You’re serious?"

She didn’t flinch.

His stomach twisted—not in panic, but in something unnervingly close to relief.

Any other woman saying those words would have set off every alarm in his head. He had spent his life avoiding women who schemed, who manipulated, who saw him as nothing more than a stepping stone to wealth and power. The thought of being trapped had once been his greatest fear.

But Joanne...

Joanne was different.

She wasn’t calculating. She wasn’t trying to ensnare him.

She simply wanted him.

Not his wealth. Not his name.

Just him.

And what stunned him even more was the realization that he wanted the same.

His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. He pulled her closer, burying his face in her hair. "Trap me, Jo..." he murmured, his voice husky with something deeper than desire. "Even if I missed this time..." he gently rubbed her belly.

She laughed, the sound like a soft chime in the night. "I do want kids, you know," she admitted. "A lot of kids. I’m planning to build a house on my land..."

Jeffrey stilled, his fingers lightly tracing circles on her bare back.

She was talking about the future.

Their future.

"This house is beautiful, but I want something bigger," she continued thoughtfully. "Something I can make completely mine. I can’t decide between Tudor or Edwardian yet, but I’ll start construction next summer."

He let out a low hum, intrigued. "I would’ve pegged you as more of a ranch house girl."

She smirked. "I don’t hate ranch houses. But I want something elegant. Maybe you can add some of your own preferences."

Jeffrey studied her, his heart clenching in the strangest way.

She had no idea who he really was. She didn’t expect anything from him.

And yet, here she was, making plans for a life with him.

Wouldn’t most women want something in return from the man they loved? Shouldn’t he be the one promising her a ring, a home, a lifetime of devotion just to have her? Why wasn’t she expecting anything?

His past had been littered with gold diggers. He had barely survived a woman who nearly ruined him. How was it possible that a woman like Joanne existed? That she could be grouped in the same category as the ones who had tried to use him?

She was real. She gave without asking for anything in return.

Anything but love.

His fingers brushed over her cheek, his gaze locked onto hers. "My preference..." he whispered, tilting her chin up.

"...is you."

Joanne’s eyes narrowed playfully. "That’s exactly what a scammer would say," she teased. "You know, the kind who seduces rich old women, marries them, and then kills them for their fortune?"

He chuckled, unfazed. He understood why she said that.

It happened in real life.

"Well... you are rich."

She huffed. "I am."

"But you’re not old."

He grinned, flipping her onto her back effortlessly, settling between her legs. "And I’m young, too... And I don’t have the heart to see you hurt..."

Joanne gazed up at him, her fingers running over his jawline.

Wouldn’t a scammer say that, too?

But he wasn’t a scammer.

He was hers.

Jeffrey kissed her, slow and deep, drinking her in. But as he pulled back, he caught the faraway look in her eyes.

"What are you thinking?" he asked. He could tell she was deep in thought, and he wanted to know.

She hesitated for only a second before asking, "I’ve been meaning to ask... Would you want to take over Shamrock Logistics?"

Jeffrey blinked.

For a moment, he thought he had misheard.

He pulled back slightly, searching her face. "You’re serious?"

She nodded. "You’re capable. It would take a huge load off my shoulders."

His throat went dry.

Just like that... just like that, she was offering him full control of the company she built. She was giving him everything.

For him.

For someone she barely knew.

Was she reckless? Naïve? Or was she just...

Oh.

She trusts me that much.

No one had ever trusted him like that before. He understood exactly what this meant. The weight of it. The honor of it.

And yet... she didn’t offer it blindly.

She had thought about this. Deliberated. And in the end, she had decided that he was worthy.

What had he done to deserve someone like her?

Someone who gave and gave, without expecting anything in return?

Anything but love.

Jeffrey exhaled shakily, his hand cradling the side of her face as he leaned in and kissed her.

This time, it wasn’t just passion.

It was devotion.

It was the overwhelming, all-consuming love that was threatening to burst out of his chest.

He thought he couldn’t love her more than he already did. But in that instant, he realized...

He had barely scratched the surface.

He took her again, driving her to ecstasy over and over until, with a final shuddering release, he met her gaze and sealed the moment with a lingering kiss. It was raw, tender, and intimate—a silent confession of everything he felt but had yet to say.

She also loved that he was a cuddler. Who doesn’t love a neat cuddle after sex? She loved his warmth and his scent surrounding her, overpowering everything else.

She felt safe, secure and loved. The perfect trifecta. With a content sigh, she fell asleep.

Jeffrey, too, was spent, but his heart was fuller than it had ever been. He held her close, their bodies tangled beneath the sheets, his hand tracing slow, absentminded circles on the small of her back.

The way she nestled against him, her breathing soft and even, sent a warmth through his chest that had nothing to do with the lingering heat of their lovemaking. She fit against him so perfectly, as if she had always belonged there.

Pressing a lingering kiss to her temple, he inhaled deeply, letting her scent lull him further into bliss. His arms tightened around her instinctively, unwilling to let go, even in sleep.

But in the middle of the night, around 3 AM, the dryness in his throat pulled him from sleep. He stirred, careful not to wake the woman curled against him. His lips curved slightly as he glanced down at her, his heart tightening at the sight.

Mine.

He didn’t want to let go. Not even for a moment.

Gently, he lifted her head and placed it on the pillow, ensuring she remained undisturbed. Slipping out of bed, he padded toward the dresser, reaching for the jug of water. He drank in slow sips, letting the cool liquid soothe his throat.

That’s when he saw it.

A photograph.

The edges were slightly worn, as if it had been handled often. The image—a blonde woman—caught his eye.

His lips quirked up in amusement. Joanne?

Did she have a blonde phase?

The idea was strangely endearing. She was perfect with her red hair—vibrant, fiery, unmistakably her. He couldn’t imagine why she would ever bleach it.

But then...

His eyes drifted lower.

The chin. The curve of the jawline. The way the hair fell just there—framing the face in a way that felt so familiar.

A cold prickle ran down his spine.

Where had he seen that before?

His breath hitched.

Then it hit him.

Like a gut punch.

A stone dropped in his stomach, heavy and unforgiving.

No way.

Just...

No way.