9. Rowan #2
“I got that after I burned myself while pouring water out of the kettle.”
“You don’t strike me as someone clumsy.”
“I’m not…usually.”
His gaze is pensive, boring into me. “Just when you have moments like you did before?”
“Yes.” I return my eyes to the ceiling. They’re safer there. The ceiling isn’t trying to read my mind…or get to know me.
The wet cloth disappears and a fluffy towel dabs at my skin. Cool cream follows, and I fight to hide my flinch.
“Sorry,” Samson says. Obviously I didn’t hide it well enough. “Nearly done.”
“Thank you,” I say, heat burning behind my eyes. I’ve seen so many sides to this man tonight. The idea of him that I’ve been fantasizing about has been fleshed out into a very real man. One who intrigues and frightens me all the same.
Not because he’s physically dangerous. That’s part of his appeal. Besides, given how he’s treating me right now?
I don’t think I need to be physically scared of Samson.
Emotionally though?
Yeah, that terrifies me.
Stop panicking, I tell myself firmly. It’s not like you’ll let him in, anyway. You can’t make him happy. You can’t make anyone happy. What’s more, you don’t deserve it.
I don’t. I deserve to be miserable for the rest of my days.
It’s my penance, one I’d decided on a long time ago.
Three-hundred and sixty-one days ago, if we’re being precise.
When he’s finished, Samson disappears out of sight again. I don’t move at all, just lie there with my legs hanging off the edge of the bed.
I’m so fucking tired. I think I may stay here for the rest of my days.
But when Samson’s frame fills my doorway, I find the energy to lift my head and squint at him. “What’s all that?”
He shrugs a shoulder as he carries the tray into the room. “Just grabbed everything I could think of.”
A lump forms in my throat as he puts the tray on my nightstand. There’s a tall glass of water, a bottle of Advil, a bowl of nuts, and another cup of chamomile tea.
“Thank you,” I croak. Fuck, I think I might cry. Don’t fucking cry. “Seriously.”
“You’re welcome.” The corner of his lip lifts as he shoves his hands into his pockets. “Feels like you maybe spend a lot of time looking after others, but not yourself.”
I sit up and pick up the glass of water. The cool liquid soothes my throat. Was I actually screaming earlier? I’ll die of embarrassment if I was. “You can’t know that.”
“What about your neighbor? You spent most of the day with him yesterday. And I saw the groceries being delivered. Doubt he ordered that stuff himself.”
“Have you been stalking me?”
“Maybe.” He smirks. “Would you mind?”
“I should.” I take a final sip before putting the glass down. “If I were smarter, I’d avoid danger.”
“Is that what I am? Dangerous?”
“You were there earlier, right? When that fucker decided to attack us outside the restaurant?”
“Fuck. The cannoli!” Samson disappears from the room again. He’s back moments later with a plate in his hand. Our dessert from the restaurant sits atop it. “Here. Can’t let these babies go to waste. Not after I risked my life and defended their honor.”
He doesn’t wait for me to take it, just drops down on the bed beside me and holds one to my lips.
I grin at him before taking a bite. I groan. “Mm. That’s so good.”
“Totally worth fucking a guy up over.”
I swallow another bite before replying. “I wouldn’t go that far, but I’m glad we didn’t lose them.”
“I’d fight over a lot less,” Samson says, and then lets out a small huff. “Suppose you’re right. I’m a bit dangerous.”
The image of how easily he disarmed the robber flashes through my mind. How he tossed him against the wall as though he were no heavier than a rag doll. “Sure. A bit.”
He feeds me the final piece with a smirk, his thumb brushing over my lip. “You missed a bit of cream.”
My tongue swipes over his thumb before my mouth automatically closes around it. Samson’s pupils dilate as I suck lightly before pulling off, wearing my own smirk. “Thanks. Can’t ever miss any of that. It would be detrimental.”
He gives a small growl as I flick my tongue over his finger once more. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
He picks up his own cannolo and polishes it off in two bites. The whole time he chews and swallows, he glowers at me. It’s really quite adorable.
“Like you’re inviting me to forget my good intentions,” he says finally, putting the plate on the tray. “I’m trying to behave.”
“Why?”
“Because you had a panic attack,” he says bluntly. I shrink back at his words. How easily he addresses what happened. What must that be like? To face your monster and call it exactly what it is? “You need to rest now.”
His concern opens up a gate I thought was bolted shut. “What I need is to not feel alone.”
My vulnerable words hang in the air, and I wish I could call them back. They make me seem weak. They make me feel…ridiculous.
A muscle works in Samson’s jaw as he stares at me.
He probably wishes I hadn’t said them too.
But then he exhales a long breath. “Fine.” He stands up, fingers hooking in the waistband of his pants.
Lust roars through me, only to be doused by his next words.
“No funny business, though. I mean it. You need rest; I’m just getting comfortable.
I run hot, and sweatpants in bed is a no-go for me. ”
He strips as he talks until he’s wearing nothing but tight black boxers.
He nudges my shoulder. “Scoot over, this is my side.”
I do as he asks, amused by the turn this situation has taken. “What if I like to sleep on that side?”
“You don’t. All your shit’s on the other nightstand, and that pillow is flatter.”
My jaw drops. How did he even notice that? Is he saying my head is too big? I pat at it, and he huffs a small laugh as he gets settled.
“Plus, I should be nearest the door, just in case.”
“Are you expecting the danger to have followed us home?”
“No. I’m the most dangerous thing you’ll find in your apartment tonight. Trust me on that.”
Well, it seems I don’t mind that at all. Samson’s brand of danger is one I’m finding more and more intriguing.
He pushes at my t-shirt until I lift it over my head. Now we’re both down to our underwear. Unfortunately, that’s as far as he plans to go. He lifts his arm and jerks his chin. “Get in here.”
I roll over and settle against his chest. I’m wide awake now. I don’t ever let anyone sleep in my bed. Not even Adam. Hell, we never even shared an apartment, let alone a bed.
And even if I had, I wouldn’t have been cuddled up against him like this. This is way too fucking close. Especially with my luck.
But Samson doesn’t let my mind wander long. He simply holds his hand over my eyes. It’s heavy and warm, and I find myself sinking farther into the mattress.
His voice is drowsy when he speaks. “Sleep, Row.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You have to.”
I try to ignore him, to stay awake, but my eyes are shut, and the heavy weight of his hand against me has me floating off into the abyss.