Chapter Seventeen
SLOANE
THE FAN over my bed is making that humming sound again. How am I supposed to sleep? It’s like a bee in my ear. Even my covers feel too heavy, so I kick them off, roll onto my back, throw my arm over my head, and stare at the fan blades as they slowly rotate over my head.
Who am I kidding? I can’t sleep because all I can think of is Mason, the way I feel when I’m close to him, the way he looks at me when we’re in the same room together, I close my eyes and remember how his lips feel when they touch me.
When I’m close to him, my body isn’t mine anymore, my skin craves his touch and I just want to feel safe in his warmth and strength.
What about what he said in the laundry room today?
That he thinks about me every day. When his fingers slid into the hair at the nape of my neck, there was just enough pressure to feel like he was making a claim but not enough to feel forceful, and when his lips touched my ear, all I wanted was to reach out and touch him. I was aching to feel him.
He was right; I was soaking wet. I had to change my underwear when I got back to my room.
He says I can trust him, but what happens when he finds out I could be a possible threat to his family? To the ranch? Will I be able to trust that I won’t be out on my ass? No man in this world wants to get tangled up with a woman who is this type of threat.
The alarm app on my phone says it’s a little after one in the morning. He’s probably been asleep for hours, definitely not lying awake thinking of me. Not after I’ve pushed him away so many times.
It was like he was reading my mind when he was saying those things.
I think of him first thing when I wake up and then again when I’m trying to go to sleep.
Like now. If only he knew that when he asked me to trust him, I wanted to let him wrap me up in his arms and give him all of me, even my trust.
I want to tell him. Maybe if I put everything out there, he will be of the same mind as his dad. But would he want to get away from me? Would that be for the best?
I could be okay with him not wanting me anymore. Couldn’t I?
Then I wouldn’t be wide awake in the middle of the night, thinking of him, wanting him.
Wishing things were different.
It’s not like he’ll be here for long, he’s here to make sure his dad is okay and as soon as he’s not needed, he’ll leave again. He has a whole life to get back to. A life with other women, who I’m sure throw themselves at him daily, and freedom to do whatever he wants.
Not that he doesn’t have freedom now, but his obligations to his family are a bit of a hindrance to what he’s used to. I’m sure the bachelor’s life has been good to him. If I lay my drama at his feet, he’ll probably look for a way out faster than I can say run away.
My chest squeezes so tight it hurts to think about him turning his back on me.
For the past couple of years, just thinking about a man touching me has made me cringe. For some reason, he’s different. Will there ever be another man that can heat my skin while easily pulling orgasm after orgasm from me like he does?
What if I’m the one making the mistake? What if I’m supposed to trust him and I’m shutting him out?
Just thinking about his touch makes me want to climb the walls to get to him. Swinging my legs over the side of my bed, I grab my thin cotton robe to cover the tank and sleep shorts I’m wearing. The last thing I want to do is bump into anyone in the hall with no bra and no robe.
Staying close to the wall so I can duck behind a bookshelf or something if I need to, I tiptoe on the hardwood floor that’s cold on my feet. I never come to this part of the house at night and my heart is rattling in my ribs in fear of being seen.
There could only be one reason why I would be by the family bedrooms in the middle of the night. If Kinley were to see me out here, she would be sure to let me know what she thinks.
Now that I’m standing outside his door, I wonder if I should just wait until tomorrow to talk to him. I can feel the pull to him through the door, will he reject me? He’s not leaving for a few more weeks, I would have to face him every day knowing he doesn’t want me.
Can I take his rejection every day until he leaves? Isn’t that what I want? I back up a step, my chest squeezing. It’s true I’ve been rejecting him, but it’s because I don’t want to drag him into the mess that’s my life, not because I don’t want him.
This is a mistake.
Just as I turn to go back to my room, his door opens. I stop mid-turn and look back at him.
He’s holding the doorknob wearing a pair of dark sweats slung low on his hips and his perfect chest and six-pack are on display. I can’t read his face, he’s purposely keeping his expression blank, but those blue eyes are slowly moving up my bare legs and over my short robe to meet mine.
As much as I would like to listen to the part of me that is saying I should go back to my room, I can’t pull my eyes away from the perfect, muscular form that is him. All of him is big and hard and makes my heart beat a little harder, I want to touch him so bad.
His short hair is standing on end like he’s been running his hands through it and his usually clean neck has stubble on it.
For all I know, he could tell me to go back to my room and never bother him again. Why wouldn’t he? He told me that he thinks of me every day and I rejected him.
Again.
Tentatively, I turn toward him and whisper, “I’m sorry. It’s late.” I say it like he doesn’t already know the time and I’m sharing new information.
The mask stays in place but he shakes his head, his eyes locked on mine, his voice is soft when he says, “It’s never too late.”
So many questions fly through my head because of that statement. My chest warms at the thought that he means it’s not too late for me. But what if he just means it’s never too late to answer his questions? Maybe he’s just a night owl.
Licking my lips, I swallow hard and softly clear my throat. “I want to trust you.”
His face softens and he holds his hand out to me. I lower my gaze to his outstretched hand and back to his eyes. “I want to answer your questions, but you won’t like it.”
He steps across the threshold into the hall and grasps my hand, pulling me in.
He moves away to click on the small lamp next to his bed and turns to face me, slipping his hands into his pockets.
Again, I get to see the perfect V that dips into the waistband of his sweats, and my lower belly flips and heats up.
His room is just as rustic as the rest of the house. Wood floors, large animal skin rug, big wooden bed with fluffy bedding, but the little telltale signs of his life are scattered throughout.
There is a rifle next to the window, one in the two corners on each side of the bed, and one by the door. A handgun is on the table next to the bed, and a few gadgets that look like hunting stuff are on top of the dresser.
I’m not sure exactly what he does for a living, all I know from Mr. Harlow is that it involves working for the military, super secret stuff that he can’t always talk about, but it looks like it may involve guns.
When he doesn’t speak, I take that as my cue to start talking, “Your dad already knows everything I’m going to tell you, I don’t want you to think that I’ve lied to your dad.”
His eyebrows twitch together slightly and smooth out again.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I say, “I only go to the hotel bar a couple times a month because that’s mostly the only time I leave the ranch. I like it there because it’s crowded, and I feel invisible.”
“Why do you want to be invisible, Sloane?” His voice is soft and low.
Taking a deep breath, I focus on the dip between his pecks, “There are men looking for me, at least I think they’re looking for me, but I don’t know what will happen if they find me.
” I roll my lips between my teeth for a second, the fear of how he will react is making it hard to breathe, “My brother sold me to traffickers.”
I chance a look at his face and even though his expression hasn’t changed, the muscles in his jaw are ticking and his arms are hard and cut, “when they tried to take me, I stabbed one of them in the neck with scissors and I don’t know if I killed him.
” Tears prick my eyes, and I start talking faster.
“I don’t know if they will kill me or just do whatever traffickers do to the women they buy, but you were right, I went into hiding after that happened and then I met your dad and I came here seven months ago.” Tears start to slip down my cheeks and I take another deep, shaky breath.
“When they took me, one of the men touched me so I haven’t been able to let a man get near me since then, but I met you that night and I liked you so much.
” I give a half-shrug. “Your smile and the way you talked to me were so warm, and I liked how I felt when you held my hand. But I knew that any guy in his right mind wouldn’t want to get tangled up in my mess so I tried to sneak away in the morning,” I shake my head a little, “but I swear I didn’t know who you were or I would have walked away.
” I lift my shoulder and wipe the tears on my cheek with my robe.
“Since that first night, I try not to smile when I’m near you and I think about you all the time. I haven’t wanted to tell you the truth because I know it will hurt when you decide that I’m not worth the trouble, so I keep pushing you away...”
In my next breath, his arms are around me, his hand is cupping the back of my head, and his chin is on top of my head. “You should have told me, Sloane, I can help you.”
My eyes slide closed and I lean into his warmth. His back under my palms is hard, and it feels good.
Turning my nose to his chest, I inhale his scent and let myself melt into him. Under the smell of man and his woodsy cologne, there is always a hint of hay and fresh dirt, I never thought I would like the smell of dirt until now.