Chapter 24
Aspen
My head one hundred percent believed him when he said I was safe here, but that didn't stop my entire body from trembling when he left. The shaking continued all the way to the bathroom and through another shower because I never fully got all the soap out of my hair from the interrupted one back in Massachusetts. I can't count how many times I had to squeeze my eyes closed and remind myself that he was there to protect me, but shutting them meant I couldn't watch the door which was visible through the glass wall of the shower.
I was in yet another position where I couldn't protect myself, and I hated the vulnerability of it.
I stand in the middle of his bedroom, a soft, thick towel wrapped around me, wondering what I should do next. I don't feel as if I have the right to open his drawers or closet in search of more clothes, but I can't exist in this room in just a towel either.
I pull in a deep breath, hopeful he'll understand my need to get dressed as I walk toward his closet.
My heart races even more when I see the back wall and the number of weapons displayed there. Although Damien didn't go out of his way to lock his weapons away, I never saw an area of the house where he had so many in one place. I have to wonder if all the people who live here have a wall of guns in their rooms. Does that make me safer or more in danger?
Instead of hyper-focusing on it, I grab a t-shirt from a hanger and pull it over my head before rummaging through his drawer and pulling out a pair of boxer briefs. Both swallow me up and are much too big, but at least they're a layer of protection against the outside world.
He didn't tell me to stay in the room, but he also didn't tell me I was welcome to roam around the house either. I figure it's best to stay where he left me. I crawl into the bed, feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush when I press my nose into his pillow and inhale the scent of him. It's beyond insane how the scent of something can bring back so many memories. Although the cologne or bodywash left behind on his pillow isn't identical to whatever it was that he used before, there's still that innate part of it that is all him, something spicy and special, something I've never found before or after him.
I feel as if I weigh a million pounds as I allow my body to sink into the mattress, but not being able to see the door makes my body begin to shake all over again. With the way I feel right now and the terror swimming inside of me, it may take literal years for me to feel comfortable in my skin again. I reposition my body on the bed so I can see the door, but it doesn't make me any less scared. I have no means of protecting myself. Even if I had a gun, I wouldn't know how to use it if it wasn't fully ready with nothing left to do but pull the trigger.
I try to close my eyes but find it an impossible task. I know there will come a time when my body will shut down, forcing me to sleep, but the naps I got in the car on the drive here seem to have been enough to keep me awake and worrying.
I don't know how long he will stay gone. I don't even know if the meeting he spoke about is here at the house. It could've taken him an hour away for all I know, and that makes me tremble more. I trust his ability to protect me. I know I can feel as safe as is possible with him here, but what if the other people he has confidence in can't protect me?
My nerves are so frazzled that when the door opens, I can't even fake being asleep with how hard I jolt in the bed.
I don't say a word as he enters. After a quick glance in my direction, he simply walks past the end of the bed, pulling his shirt over his head by the back of the neck. I think it's quite possibly one of the sexiest things I've ever seen. He enters the bathroom just as his fingers work open the buckle on his belt, the clinking sound it makes fading away when he closes himself into the bathroom.
The sounds of the shower leak out into the bedroom, and I feel a little wild and restless knowing that he's in there. I have no idea how the night will look when he comes out. He could very easily leave the room once he's done, but I know he has to be exhausted. Other than the few stops for gas and snacks, he hasn't slept.
What seems like forever is probably only fifteen minutes in total with him locked behind the bathroom door. He's every woman's wildest fantasy when the door opens.
Steam billows out from behind him, the towel around his trim waist hugging him dangerously low on his hips.
His hair is a wild mess, and from the looks of it, he only ran the towel over it for a few seconds. His scent wafts into the room, clean and masculine, and I bet it's a completely different scent than what clings to my skin although I used the same soap.
He doesn't say a word as he walks to the dresser. Turning his back to me, I watch unabashedly as the towel pools at his feet before he slips on a pair of boxer briefs, the same kind I'm wearing, only his fit snuggly to every inch they cover.
He hesitates at the side of the bed, as if he can't decide if this is the best thing for either of us. He stares down at me when I lift the blanket in invitation, pausing before accepting it.
"Peach," he whispers, the only word that has left his lips since he entered the room, and I know why he says it.
He's feeling much like I am, and the vulnerability I've felt these last two days clings to me like a second skin.
I just want to forget, to spend a few moments where I don't feel like my entire world is spinning out of control.
Despite the years and distance between us, this is something we always got right, even though we didn't get the opportunity to spend much time together before Damien walked in on us that day.
"It's okay," I whisper, hoping he doesn't change his mind.
I have no way of knowing how this will go tonight or what it means in the grand scheme of things, but I'm desperate for the warmth of his skin against mine. From the look in his eyes, I think he feels the same way.
He swallows as his eyes run over me, and by the way they glisten, you'd think I was in this bed naked and waiting for him rather than wearing a pair of his boxers and a baggy t-shirt. He always made me feel as if I was the only woman in the world who existed, and right now is no different.
Tears burn my eyes as he stands there, seeming to struggle with his choice, and I can't help but wonder what's going through his mind.
Does he hate me?
Does he have so many regrets from that day?
Were there days when the pain was so immense that missing out on death seemed like a real loss?
I've dreamed about the life we could've had if things were different, if I were born into a different family where someone loving me wasn't punishable by death.
I've dreamed of us having Eli and many more kids, because in my perfect world, I didn't nearly bleed out after giving birth. I didn't lose my uterus. I'd always seen it as a blessing. No uterus meant no heir for Damien. He mostly left me alone, something I've been grateful for. With Nolan here, it's as if I'm suffering the loss all over again.
"I don't know if this is such a good idea," he says, still undecided. "If I get into that bed..."
"I know," I say. "But we could just sleep."
He scoffs as if that's the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard, and I know exactly how he's feeling. My skin is itching for the brush of his fingers. My lips tingle from the need of his to be pressed against them.
I'm cold without the warmth of his body against mine, and it feels like the chill is spreading deeper and deeper, making me more antsy as he just stands there staring down at me.
I can tell he wants me. The evidence is right there at damn near eye level, but I can't negate the sting of him struggling so hard with the decision.
It makes me feel like a failure, as if I've hurt him so badly that he can't stomach the idea of touching me, no matter how his body is responding.
"It's okay," I whisper, but before I can drop the sheet and comforter back down, he grabs the corner of it and climbs into the bed with me.