Chapter 15
How can this man’s arms feel like a homecoming?
I’m more confused than I’ve ever been in my life.
I feel cared for. Really, deeply cared for…by a stranger.
I should climb off his lap. Lock myself in the bathroom and get my act straight. I should… Not lean in and rest my head on his shoulder. But I can’t drag myself away.
“I’m probably making your legs go to sleep.”
He rumbles beneath my ear. “You’re not heavy enough to do that.” His arms cinch tighter, locking me in the cocoon of his strength.
I suddenly feel extremely weary.
Like I’ve been dragging an anchor up a mountain for years. So many bad things have happened.
My lashes get moist, much to my annoyance, and my voice is all rough when I speak. “This is going to sound stupid, so brace yourself…”
I can already picture the monumental eye roll that this remark will cause. But I take a breath and say it anyway. “I can’t tell you the last time I felt… cared for.”
Beast’s chest stops rising and falling because he’s holding his breath. His muscles turn to concrete.
A weird energy fills the cabina. It feels like a summer night when the weather suddenly changes, the wind shifts, a storm is somewhere in the distance, making its presence known.
I have plenty of time to regret my admission during the really long, bristling silence that follows.
I startle when he speaks.
“You’ve had a rough time, have you?” He rests his chin on top of my crown.
The dreaded follow-up questions have arrived.
Trying not to sound bitter, I say, “Let’s just say that I’ve been enrolled in the School of Hard Knocks for a long time. The last few years have been…” I sigh and pinch my eyes closed. “Disappointing and full of dead ends.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He strokes my hair, cradling my head against his shoulder.
“You can laugh me off your lap if you want, but I just need to say thank you. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”
I wait for his laughter, but it doesn’t come. Actually, he’s incredibly still. So, continuing on my foolish, loose-lipped rambling, I say, “Thank you for saving me from whatever nightmare was about to happen, and for making sure I felt better. For not judging me about my reaction to you taking a drink of tequila. For doing this. For letting me be here, to feel safe in your arms.”
He’s worryingly silent after my admission. But he finally breathes. It’s ragged. His hand tightens, cupping me more firmly against his shoulder.
I’m not sure how long I stay there, cheek to chest, but my mind slows, my body relaxes, little by little.
I definitely shouldn’t fall asleep listening to the strong, determined beat of his heart.
I absolutely should not dream of a house to call home and a man whispering he loves me in the dark hours of the night.
Those dreams are for someone else.