Chapter 12 #3
‘Get in here, Rox,’ he repeated, his timbre sleepy, thick, and non-negotiable.
I climbed under the duvet, but my pulse was racing so fast I knew I needed a safety boundary.
I grabbed three throw pillows and lined them up down the center of the mattress, dividing it into two sides: his and mine.
Angel’s smoky eyes cracked open, staring at my makeshift border in pure, unadulterated disbelief.
‘The hell you think that’s gonna do?’
He propped his head up on his hand, peering over my pillow wall with a dangerous glint in his eyes.
‘If I intended to tear you up, beautiful, you really think a fortress of fluff is going to stop me?’
Heat rushed to my face, my cheeks burning as I stared down at my embarrassing attempt at security.
‘You know,’ he drawled, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, ‘I’m shocked SWAT doesn’t use this tactic. If they just threw down a couple of throw cushions, not even one crim would ever cross the line.’
‘I don’t expect the pillows to keep you out,’ I said, holding my ground. ‘They’re just a buffer against any stray moves in the dark.’
‘Ah.’
He stretched out the word, his voice dropping an octave, his chest rumbling with silent laughter.
‘Can’t have any stray moves.’
‘Exactly. I might roll over in my sleep, and feel you up. I’d hate to take advantage of you.’
Knifing up, he tossed two of the pillows onto the floor and dragged me right over the third.
‘Damn woman. Get over here, close to me. I promise to be a gentleman. Fuck.’
‘Gentlemen don’t curse.’
‘The hell they don’t,’ he grunted into my ear.
He pulled me closer, my back flush against his chest while his arm locked tight over my waist.
His sinewed forearm rested across my stomach, anchoring me to him with effortless strength that made my heart race.
The light brush of his leg hair was soft yet electric over the bare skin of my thighs, sending a subtle shudder of pleasure straight down my spine.
His breath was warm down the back of my neck, and his scent, a rich, intoxicating mix of pure male potency, cedar, and musk, filled my senses until there was room for nothing else.
I couldn’t quite wrap my head around the deliciousness of the moment, tangled in the arms of the man I craved in secret for years.
A profound, bone-deep sense of safety settled over me, chasing away every lingering fear.
A quiet sigh escaped my lips, a soft smile spreading across my face as I closed my eyes and surrendered to his hold.
Golden morning sunlight poured through the open balcony doors, carrying the rhythm of crashing ocean waves and the salty sea breeze off the Capri coast.
I woke up slowly to the realization that Angel had never let go of me all night.
He radiated heat from where he pressed against me under the sheets.
Still deep asleep beside me, his broad ribcage rose and fell in a steady, calm tempo.
Easing from under his arm, I scooted to the other side of the bed.
I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs as I studied him in the soft light.
Dark, messy locks spilled across his forehead, framing a handsome, chiseled face and a sculpted jawline.
His muscular shoulders sprawled over my pillows.
His ripped chest was visible under the vest he wore, tapering to his abs, his thick arm flung out.
So damn sexy, all male and freakin’ beautiful.
This man.
He’d fought three thugs for me yesterday, and I spent the entire night lying in his arms, all my yearning dreams coming true.
‘Get a grip, Roxy,’ I muttered to myself, leaving the bed before my mind ran wild and I jumped him in his sleep.
I slid out of bed, pulled on my silk robe, and padded downstairs.
I returned with a steamy mug of espresso, setting it on the wooden bedside table right beside his face.
His eyes snapped open, his calloused hand shooting out to catch my wrist in a firm hold.
‘You OK, Rox?’ he growled with a rough, throaty whisper straight out of sleep.
‘I’m fine, Angel,’ I said, offering a small smile. ‘Still, you shouldn’t have slept on the hard floor outside my door.’
His intense eyes narrowed, his clasp on my arm remaining steady.
‘You’re my wife,’ he stated, his timbre carrying an unyielding edge. ‘You almost got assaulted yesterday, so sleeping outside your room was the least I could do.’
‘Thank you,’ I whispered, my throat tightening.
‘Always,’ he replied.
Always.
The word echoed in my skull, picking at every insecurity I owned.
Did he mean that for real, or was he playing the dutiful protector because a marriage certificate bound us together?
His thumb smoothed over my inner palm, sending a jolt of pure electricity straight up my arm to my core.
A desperate, aching yearning pooled in my gut as our eyes locked.
Then he released my wrist, sat up against the headboard, and reached for the hot coffee cup, his smoky, sleep-sexy eyes on me, probing me.
A sudden tidal wave of emotion hit, and I turned away to hide the vulnerability churning in my soul.
‘I’m making breakfast,’ I said, retreating toward the bedroom doorway. ‘Come down when you’re ready.’
I fled the room before I exposed more of my fragile heart.