Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Stevie
I woke up…warm.
Cozy.
Confused as hell, and kinda achy.
Why was I scrunched up? And what was this skin I was pressed against?
I slowly pushed myself upright as I rubbed at my eyes, and I’m a little embarrassed to admit how long it took me to realize I was sitting in Garrak’s lap. Was that a little drool spot on his chest?
Oh my God, I’d drooled on Garrak’s bare chest!
Don’t get me wrong—his bare chest was definitely drool-worthy. But not like that.
Grateful he appeared to still be asleep, with his head tipped back against the couch and his breathing deep, I carefully extricated myself from his hold. And it was definitely a hold; he had one arm around my back, cradling me against him, and the other was on my ass.
The realization made me warm.
What had happened? Why was I sleeping in his lap?
I remembered falling asleep sad, knowing tomorrow—today—I’d be leaving Eastshore and Garrak.
But then… Frowning, I finally slipped my bare feet to the floor and carefully stood, not wanting to disturb him.
I remembered nightmares, but as always, when I tried to hold onto them, they slipped just out of my reach.
Well, maybe I didn’t want to remember them after all.
I dragged my fingers through my hair and escaped to the bathroom, only to find my undies still hanging on the towel rack. Crap! I’d forgotten to get them last night after I’d washed them in the sink.
Next time I agreed to a trip for my father, I needed to pack better.
As I brushed my teeth, I studied my reflection.
Did I look paler than usual? More drained?
Well, who the hell could blame me? I thought this had been a simple courier trip, and I’d showed up at a stranger’s home, only to find out I was expected to fuck him to cancel my father’s debt? And if I didn’t, I’d be in danger?
But then, I’d realized this was a stranger I wouldn’t mind fucking…and then the longer I stayed, the less of a stranger Garrak became, and now it was Thursday and I would be heading back to the mainland, and I wouldn’t see him or Eastshore ever again.
So yeah.
No wonder I looked like I’d been dragged through a ringer, right?
But…
I spit, then straightened to frown at my reflection.
I’d had nightmares last night but didn’t remember them. All I remembered was waking up safe and comfortable and—and cherished. I don’t know how I ended up in his arms, but Garrak had protected me, even if it was just from myself.
With a sigh, I pushed myself upright and glanced out the window. It was a dreary day, with rain-heavy clouds threatening the town. A crappy day for a drive, but I should be grateful for a little more time with Garrak.
He still wasn’t awake by the time I emerged, so I closed the door a little too loudly. “Good morning,” I announced cheerfully as he startled awake.
“Stevie!” One of his hands rested on his bare stomach, and when he shifted, I watched the way his sweatpants sagged. “You’re awake early.”
This is likely the point when I should have said something suave and sexy, or at least flirtatious. But the dude was sitting there on my sheets, mostly naked, with all that skin on display, and I realized I was just staring.
Say something!
Yep. Yep, I would definitely say something. Aaaany minute now…
Had I thought Garrak was sexy when he’d stood in the doorway with his sleeves rolled up and that tattoo on display?
Um, sleepy Garrak in only gray sweatpants? Way sexier. Especially since, as I stared, I saw his crotch stirring. His dick was slowly stiffening behind that cotton, and I felt my lips curling in awe. That monster cock really was massive, and—
He grabbed my pillow and slammed it over his crotch.
“Sorry,” he muttered, shifting to stand. “You were—uh, you were having a nightmare.”
I caught my tongue stud between my teeth, then released it. “Yeah…I figured. You, uh…”
You held me. You made me feel better.
But that must not have been what Garrak thought I was going to say, because I watched his skin darken with a blush and he shoved himself to his feet.
“Right.” He cleared his throat, then took a step sideways. “It was—you’re fine now.”
“Fine.”
Another step, that pillow still clutched against him. “So I’ll just…”
“Right.” I cleared my throat and forced myself to look away, as if I wasn’t completely in awe of his chest. “Sounds good.”
You’re not making any sense.
Well, who could blame me? Lord, the guy was hot.
I was getting turned on just standing there, wasn’t I? I peeked at him again.
Was it my imagination, or did he hesitate for just a moment before dropping his gaze to my crotch and back up again? There was something strange in his eyes, and it wasn’t until the bedroom door closed behind him that I realized what it had been.
In the center of each of his dark eyes, there’d been a tiny glint of green.
It didn’t take long for me to pack everything into my backpack.
I would change into jeans and a bra soon enough, but for now, I was feeling a little maudlin as I padded barefoot into the kitchen.
Thinking to help, I figured out how to work Garrak’s fancy coffee maker, poured in some of the Orcin’ Around specialty blend, and pulled down the cup I remembered he’d used yesterday.
When he hadn’t emerged by the time it finished brewing, I poured him a cup, trying to remember if he’d taken it with cream or sugar.
I was chewing on my tongue, staring down at the mug, when I felt his gaze on me. I peeked over my shoulder, and sure enough, Garrak was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, wearing a fierce frown.
He was also wearing that same pair of gray sweatpants that did all sorts of delicious things to his crotch region, and a black Henley shirt, pushed up to his elbows…but I was more worried about the frown.
“Good morning,” I croaked, then forced a smile and offered him the mug. “I made you coffee. A little fuel for the drive. Do you like creamer or anything?”
Instead of answering, Garrak unfurled his arms and began to move—stalk—across the kitchen toward me. Worried I’d done something wrong, I backed up until my ass hit the counter and the coffee in his mug threatened to spill.
When he reached me, he kept coming, stepping too close, forcing me to tip my head back. I realized I was holding my breath, my lips parted in—worry? Anticipation? What was going through his mind?
One big hand closed around the mug, taking it from my hand. Our fingers brushed, and I thought he might have lingered.
“No, sweetheart,” he said gently, moving the mug to the counter behind me and moving his palms to the granite on either side of me, blockading me with his warmth. Just like this morning. “I take it black, just like you.”
My eyes widened. “You…”
“Noticed how you take your coffee?” He dipped his chin slightly, still towering over me. “I notice everything about you, Stevie. It’s my responsibility.”
My lips formed a little “oh” of surprise, but no sound emerged.
Dark eyes, each with a tiny speck of green in the center, caressed my face, as if searching for something. After a long moment—I really needed to get around to inhaling one of these days!—he nodded once—in approval?—and straightened.
I sucked in a breath and allowed myself to slump against the counter, his approval making me flush proudly. After grasping for something totally nonchalant and cool-sounding, as if I weren’t flustered by my body’s response to him, I blurted, “How long is the drive to Raleigh?”
Obviously I failed on the nonchalant and cool part, okay?
Garrak didn’t move, his expression didn’t change. His black-and-slightly-green gaze studied me as if I were fascinating.
Finally, he rumbled, “You’re not going to Raleigh. I’m keeping you.”
I’m keeping you?
I should tell you that those words were so surprising that I jerked against the counter, bumped into him, bleated a startled, “What?” and grabbed a hold of his chest to steady myself.
But honestly?
Honestly?
It was my body and soul’s reaction to those words that made me jerk against the counter, bump, bleat, et cetera, et cetera.
As soon as Garrak had announced that, I felt a bone-deep shot of relief, which surprised the hell out of me.
Relief and gratitude and something like belonging, maybe?
It was so unexpected that I acted like a total fool, and ended up standing there, my fingers curled around the material of his shirt, staring open-mouthed up at him.
One of Garrak’s hands rose, and his fingers cupped my chin. It was how he’d held me—had it only been the day before yesterday, when I’d showed up at his door? His fingers splaying across my cheek, his thumb resting on my lower lip?
He held me possessively, as if I belonged to him. As if he would take care of me.
And I liked it.
“Your flight’s on Sunday,” he murmured. “I’ll drive you that morning. Until then, you’ll stay here. With me.”
My knees went weak at the command in his tone, and I should have bristled. I should have told him I was tired of males telling me what to do. I should have compared him to my father.
But Garrak hadn’t bruised me. Hadn’t used me. Hadn’t gotten me in trouble or twisted my moral compass or any of the other shit I’d been through in my life.
And I wanted to be here with him.
So I grinned up at him softly, hoping my happiness showed. “I’d like that.”
Garrak
Thursday was rainy and cold; the perfect day for staying inside and baking and going through tax documents and eventually going so fucking stir-crazy you decide that maybe going for a run isn’t so bad.
Except…with Stevie there, I never reached that point.
Her face when I announced I was going to start a pot of soup and make some herb bread for dinner? Adorable. “What, you don’t think orcs can bake?” I’d teased her.
“I shouldn’t be surprised,” she quipped right back. “Let me guess. You learned…to help someone. Someone needed bread…”