CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The power hadn’t returned, and their second round of beer bottles was empty.
They had moved to the couch and talked for hours.
He liked watching her, studying her.
He liked the way her mind worked.
One question had led to another and then another, and before he knew it, the meeting of two semi-strangers had become the formation of a bond.
A tenuous friendship, perhaps.
Perhaps more. That was what Liam would call his impulsiveness.
Camden saw a pretty girl and was jumping for more of her.
But he swore this was different.
The enigmatic pull he’d felt from the first phone call was all the more potent, and since he’d met her in person, since he’d seen the way her dark hair hung over her shoulders with a slight wave and how her eyes danced when she laughed or narrowed when she interrogated him, he couldn’t force himself to go to bed and give them space.
It didn’t really matter, though.
Beyond the fact that she was essentially a client and a grieving woman who’d been fucked by the system, he could be called back to Abu Dhabi at any time.
Still, he wanted to sit there all night.
He wanted more, if he wasn’t lying to himself.
He could reach out and touch her hair, her skin.
He wanted to breathe her in—man, those beers were doing a number on him.
He ran a hand over his face and into his hair with a long, reprobative sigh.
“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t realize what time it was.”
His chest tightened.
Regret needled under his skin.
She’d taken his actions as exhaustion when they had been anything but.
Camden checked the time: far past midnight.
He would have guessed it was pushing eleven.
They’d covered a lot of her questions, and he was sure she had more, but she was probably tired.
“You need to get some sleep,” he said.
She glanced toward the dark stairs.
“I wish the power would come back on.”
He was glad it had gone out.
It had pulled them together on the couch.
He gathered their empty beers and deposited them in the recycling can.
“I’ll walk you upstairs and make sure you have everything you need.”
Camden followed Amelia up the stairs to the only bedroom.
She set a candle on the nightstand.
It danced and bathed her in a buttery golden light.
Fuck, why the hell was his mind registering her like that?
He needed to get a move on instead of focusing on the woman in a way he very much needed to ignore.
“This place is all yours.” He walked through the bedroom to the bathroom and gathered his toiletries.
The space was small but clean.
It wasn’t stocked like her condo, but generic supplies were kept for anyone who needed them.
“If you need anything, you know where I’ll be.”
“Honestly, Cam. I can sleep on the couch.”
He considered all the shitty places he’d slept in over the years: bunked in the cold desert night, trapped in a tundra shack, sweating through his clothes in a jungle.
The couch suited him more than the bed anyway.
“I think I was raised better than that.”
He didn’t know why he said that.
It was true, but he didn’t usually trot out quips about how he was raised.
Maybe he was trying to impress her.
Either way, he sounded like an idiot.
Amelia hugged him. She simply wrapped her arms around his neck as though it were something they’d done a hundred times, and every part of him lit up like lightning streaking across the sky.
His breath caught, and his fingers ached to flex into her softness.
Camden tried to rationalize the connection.
He tried to downplay their interaction and the sparks igniting from their physical touch.
She had hugged him at the prison.
So, they’d hugged twice—only twice.
The unexpected familiarity of holding her would have been off-putting if it didn’t feel so fucking good.
Her arms tightened around his neck.
Her lips brushed just below his earlobe.
“Thanks, Cam.”
A shiver cascaded from the spot her lips grazed, and the hairs on the back of his neck shot to attention.
Her soft cheek pressed against his.
One forearm snaked around the small of her back and held her still against his torso.
His heart drummed a heavy staccato.
He should’ve pulled away, but he ignored all his responsibility and tightened his arms around her, hugging, holding.
The seconds ticked by.
He breathed her in, trying to rationalize the way he held her in the flickering darkness, and he came up with absolutely nothing.
Holding onto her was rash.
Irresponsible. He needed to let go, but he didn’t know how the hell that was going to happen when his body was memorizing the way hers pressed against his and stupid things like the sweet smell of her shampoo.
“I haven’t felt this safe in days.” Amelia leaned into him.
Well, fuck. That wasn’t going to tamp down his interest. Arousal pounded in his blood.
If he couldn’t rationalize his reaction to her, he needed to understand her reaction to him.
He swallowed hard and mentally fought for clarity.
She was seeking reassurance.
Safety. Something that was very different from his racing thoughts about her sweet mouth and pliable body.
Right then, he needed to do everything by the book or, at the very least, not be a piece of shit and take advantage of their dynamic.
His chin dropped to the top of her head and brushed her silky hair.
Camden didn’t kiss her, but he damn well wanted to.
“You should go to bed.”
“Cam…”
He didn’t trust himself and pretended not to hear the soft way she said his name, but he sure as hell didn’t step back to give himself space.
Amelia tipped her chin up.
God, those eyes. They were dark pools of wonder and—he clearly saw it—desire.
His blood raced faster.
His lips tingled. Candlelight danced over her features.
He had wanted to touch her since their first phone call.
Primally, he’d wanted to keep her safe and chase away the man who chased her.
It had killed him that he was thousands of miles away, and then he was awestruck that she hadn’t crumbled under pressure.
She’d been so close to not making it through the night.
But she had, and after that first night, the more they talked, the more he needed to find out who the strong woman on the other line of the phone was.
He’d been attracted to her without knowing what she looked like, and now holding her, Camden couldn’t think straight.
They needed space. Daylight.
A long night’s rest. They needed many, many things that didn’t exist in that bedroom.
Camden brushed her hair behind her ear and forced himself to let go.
Cold air invaded the space between them.
Her frown was almost enough for him to say, “Fuck it.” They could use the two beers as an excuse for a bad decision.
He squeezed her biceps and trailed his palm to her elbow before finally pulling away.
“Good night, Amelia.”
Camden awoke to a sound.
He sat up and blinked in the darkness.
It was still the middle of the night.
The wind and rain still battled outside.
Without electricity, the house had cooled.
He shivered and heard the sound again.
It had come from the bedroom.
Amelia had left the door open, explaining that after spending nights in solitary confinement, she hadn’t even wanted the appearance of being locked in.
“Amelia?” he called softly enough to not wake her but loud enough to get her attention if she was calling for him.
He got no answer.
He strained to filter the weather from what might be her calls when he heard it again.
Camden padded barefoot across the living room and up the stairs.
He wasn’t sure what was happening until he stood at the bedroom door and saw Amelia thrashing under the covers.
Her words were frightened but unintelligible.
“Amelia? You’re sleep talking.”
Actually, it was more like a night terror.
He stepped to the foot of the bed.
Her legs had tangled in the comforter.
The only word he was certain of was “no.”
“Hey.” He gripped her ankle and squeezed.
“Easy.” That didn’t stop her nightmare.
Camden moved to the top of the bed and perched on the edge.
“Amelia. You’re dreaming.”
She snapped up with a gasp, one hand outstretched.
Her wild eyes scanned the room until she saw him.
“God…” Her outstretched hand folded to her chest. “That nightmare.” She tried to catch her breath.
“It keeps coming back.” Her head dropped back, breath racing as though she’d finished a marathon.
Finally, she leaned against him.
“I don’t even know what happens in it. But it’s the same thing. I can’t run. I can’t hide. I don’t know what from. I just”—she rolled her forehead against his arm—“know I’m going to die.”
“You’re safe,” he promised.
“Slow your breathing. It’s okay.”
She inhaled a long, shaky breath.
“There you go. Hold it for a second, and let it out.”
Amelia followed his instructions.
“Just like that. Take another deep breath… Hold it… There you go. Let it out, nice and easy.”
She half laughed and rested her cheek on his shoulder, looking up at him.
“You’re pretty good at knowing what I need to do.”
Camden smoothed a hand over her hair.
“Just had to catch your breath. That’s all.”
“You did that on the first night,” she whispered.
“Made me catch my breath. You probably kept me from freaking out and trying to run out of the house.”
“That probably wouldn’t have gone well.”
She shook her head.
“Not at all. You helped… and that cat.”
He grinned.
“What cat?”
Amelia slipped off his shoulder, lay down, and tugged him to lie beside her.
The queen-size mattress had more than enough room for them to have their own space, but she scooted her pillow closer to his as though she didn’t feel safe in a CIA safe house and he was what would keep her from the nightmares.
He lay on his side and watched as she stared at the ceiling.
She kept her voice low and explained, “The one from the house I broke into.” After a moment, she glanced at him and searched his expression for a reprimand.
She wouldn’t find it, but that didn’t keep her from looking.
“Did you know I broke into that house?”
“If you were trying to save your family, then I don’t care either way.”
She watched him like she didn’t believe him, but her uncertainty slowly, curiously changed.
Finally, her gaze returned to the ceiling.
“The cat scared the crap out of me.” She laughed quietly.
“It restarted my heart. You know ‘fight or freeze’? I had frozen when that man was coming for me. The cat snapped me out of it.” She faced him again.
“Do you believe in guardian angels or higher powers?”
“In the form of a cat?”
She elbowed him with a laugh and looked away.
Maybe she couldn’t share her story and look at him simultaneously.
“I ran up the stairs. By then, I managed to speak when you answered. Everything was such a blur.” She closed her eyes, perhaps replaying all that happened.
“I crawled under a bed and wedged against the wall. It was such a small space. The bed frame came to right here.” She held her hand a couple of inches above her nose.
“The footsteps came closer. My heart crawled into my throat. The space felt like it was shrinking.” She paused again and stared at nothing.
“You made me breathe, and the cat grounded me. Your voice and its soft fur.” She turned on her side and faced him again.
“I wouldn’t be alive if not for that.” She laughed self-deprecatingly.
“That part is never in my nightmare.”
He gave her a playful elbow.
“Maybe it wouldn’t be so scary if we were there.”
She laughed, which he took as a win.
Then Amelia sobered and whispered, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
She shivered and pulled the comforter up.
The house was much colder than when they’d gone to sleep.
She eyed his bare chest. He’d been sleeping in sweatpants and hadn’t bothered to find a shirt before coming upstairs.
Body heat was the best way to keep warm.
He bit his tongue to keep that to himself.
Her covers were working overtime to keep him in check.
“Are you cold?” she asked.
Come on, Amelia. Don’t tempt me .
He propped up on his side.
“I’ll let you get back to sleep.”
That was what was needed, what kept him from being a massive asshole.
She was pouring her soul out to him about trauma that would haunt her for years, and he was thinking about body heat.
What the hell was wrong with him?
“Sleep,” she said, mulling the word over as though it were a pill she needed to take.
“I’ve always been the one in charge. The provider. The boss. I can’t remember the last time someone told me to do something for my benefit.” She glanced at him in a way that didn’t help the growing need tightening in his chest. “If I’ve learned anything from our conversations, it’s that I like it when you’re looking out for me and tell me what to do.”
In bed…
His heart thudded. That wasn’t anywhere near how she meant him to take it, yet that was where his mind went.
She held his gaze, almost challenging him— almost like she’d thought of that too.
Camden should make a joke.
A better idea would be to say good night and drag himself to the couch.
She looked away and half laughed.
“Life just feels easier when you do the mental heavy lifting and lighten the burdens.” She laughed again, but it was deprecating.
“ Go to sleep . God. What’s wrong with me? That’s not a heavy mental burden. I’m not making sense.” Amelia shook her head.
“I have no idea what I’m talking about.”
He did.
He had an unshakeable need to take care of her.
He didn’t believe in fate, but he couldn’t ignore chemistry.
That was too damn bad.
Their connection wasn’t anything they should act on.
“Get some sleep.” He couldn’t help himself and leaned over and pressed a dangerous kiss to her forehead.
Her sharp intake of breath rocketed through him.
His lips remained on her soft skin.
The quietest whisper of need rumbled in her throat.
Amelia wrapped a hand around his bicep and held him still.
The message was loud and clear.
Stay . Desire flared in her eyes just as it had before, but the vulnerability was there too.
His stomach dropped.
He forced his lips away and touched his forehead to hers and closed his eyes.
“I can’t.”
They lingered in the dark.
Neither crossed the line, but much was said without uttering a word.
Finally, he wrenched himself away and managed to roughly say, “Night” and kicked himself all the way back to his blanket on the couch.