Chapter 10
ELENA PIERSON
Ashaft of white light cuts through a gap in the curtains, effectively slicing across my closed lids, and I groan as I’m forced awake. Attempting to pull the blanket to shield myself, my sleep-fogged brain snaps to attention when I find myself unable to move, my body heavy.
My cheek is pressed into something firm, warm, and covered in soft fabric. I inhale, and the scent of cucumber melon hits me immediately, causing a strange stirring in my middle. Then I feel him.
Lachlan.
I blink against the sharp strands of bright morning sun, and the first thing I see is his huge chest covered in the gray of his shirt and the deep red of his beard.
His expression is lax, while the subtle rhythmic breathing lifts his chest. He huffs in his sleep and lets out a snore, and I bite my lip to keep from letting out the giggle of happiness that’s suddenly bubbling up my chest.
He’s so very beautiful.
Vibrant sparks of deep auburn and fiery copper dance everywhere the sunlight kisses his hair, glowing against the light porcelain of his skin that I know can turn greenish blue at a moment’s notice.
His eyelashes rest on his cheeks and his mouth is upturned into a small curve of a smile while an arm is thrown carelessly over his forehead, revealing one broad forearm covered in a smattering of freckles.
I want to kiss each one. The thought comes and I freeze, my breath catching in my throat as the arm strewn casually over my hip tightens as if it belongs there.
According to him, it does.
The relaxing swaying motion and light sound of the clack-clacking of the train traveling along the tracks combined with the comfortability of his arms puts together the most soothing atmosphere I’ve ever experienced. He makes me feel without even trying.
The memory of how sweet he was last night, of how concerned he seems with my reaction in general brings warmth billowing inside my chest, and my stomach seizes with butterflies.
The quiet functional organ of my heart has never skipped a beat over any male in my acquaintance but this one. Attraction to the opposite sex is a foreign language I’ve never managed to grasp, no matter how many dates Nat shoved me into, or how hard I tried to feel a magnetism to anyone.
Until now.
Each encounter with this man creates a new feeling within me it seems. I know enough to accept that the wild erratic agitations are a physical manifestation of nervousness within me, a mixture of adrenaline and dopamine I can’t control.
The butterflies I only thought were metaphors in my sci-fi romance novels are real. Tiny butterfly wings are beating in unison every time this man’s laugh lines make an appearance, and even now his slight snoring sends my insides soaring with infatuation.
Natalie is going to lose it when I tell her. And he says I’m his seahorse.
I close my eyes ready to drift back to sleep, but the rhythmic rise and fall of Lachlan’s breathing hitches, as it becomes suddenly shallow and broken.
Raising my leg from his hip, I gingerly try to move away without disturbing him as I readjust myself in the bed, and my heart rate spikes faster than a cheetah on a treadmill.
Oh my god, he’s huge.
The blanket Lachlan covered up in when we first laid down is missing, gone to regions unknown, much like my brain cells, while his extremely large erection protrudes above the waistband of his gray sleep pants.
It’s true, I’m a virgin, but I’ve explored my body with plenty of toys before, and it’s clear, Lachlan is much, much bigger than them all.
I glance up at his face, and find his jaw locked tight, and a deep line furrows his red brows as if he’s caught in an all-consuming and vivid dream.
Arching up from his shoulder, I notice the train’s ivory blanket pooled low around his knees, and as I shift my body the barest inch closer, his arm tightens.
Concern floods through my nervous system and I reach out a hand, intending to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead and soothe him from whatever nightmare he’s currently caught up in.
“Elena,” he breathes.
I freeze as the sound of my name escapes his lips. The low and quiet exhale is so thick and raw with intensity it sends chills skittering along my body and raises the hair on my arms.
He’s dreaming of me…
Transfixed in place, my hand hovers, still suspended in air as his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks and his big hand twitches against the mattress, his fingers flexing as if he’s trying to reach for something.
“Elena, please…” he speaks my name again, but this time his voice is a rough whimper.
My own breath catches in my throat and my heart begins to hammer against my ribs in response, but before I can process the insane thrill that jolts through me, a sudden involuntary ripple goes through his form. I tense, every muscle in my body halting its movements as he groans loudly.
His cock bounces and seems to strain even harder against its confines, and a warm heat travels through my abdomen as I feel my pupils dilate in response.
I stare in wonder at the realization that I’m having a physical reaction to him, and I like it.
A heavy electric hum ignites deep in my lower abdomen and spreads outward, making me feel flushed and dizzy as my own arousal hits me. A deep ache and warmth unfurls between my thighs, pooling heavily there as the sounds of his choppy and uneven breathing wraps around me.
An involuntary gasp leaves me, my gaze going wide as I watch his dick somehow grow even bigger, rising clearly out of its confines, like his pants are too snug to hold it captive.
Oh my god. I’m supposed to be mated to this? It’s gigantic!
As his cock grows before my very eyes, the sight makes my core tighten with desire, but before I can locate exactly where, he lets out another shaky snore that ends on a whimper.
My nipples go hard at the thought, breaking me from my trance. “Oh my god, what am I doing?”
I’m almost accosting him in his sleep like an asshole. The thought sobers me instantly, removing the intimacy of the moment and making it feel wrong and abhorrent as flames of embarrassment begin to flush across my body.
“What’re you doing, lass?” he suddenly says, his voice groggy with sleep.
Lachlan gasps, and his gaze collides with mine in the dark for a split second as I go still like a deer in the headlights. My face begins to turn scorching hot, and my heart thuds like crazy. He’s caught me, and he knows I was watching him.
“I’m so sorry,” I yelp, and jerk away.
I hear his strained intake of breath as the fog seems to clear from his mind, and a look of unadulterated panic spreads across his features as he gazes down in the dark. A deep and mortified flush floods his face that’s even visible in the dim light.
“I need to, I’ve got to…” he chokes out his voice, a low strangled squeak.
He doesn’t finish the sentence, and in a blur of movement he tosses the blankets from across his legs and launches himself out of the bed.
Practically sprinting, he makes a beeline for the small ensuite bathroom, and the door shuts with a definite and resounding bang followed by the loud click of the lock engaging.
I fall back against the pillows, and pull the blankets up to my neck as I groan and cover my face with both hands as mortification and arousal rolls through me in waves, all the while knowing he’s on the other side of the door dying of embarrassment of his own.
I close my gaze and the image of his panicked and flushed face is there as if burned into memory, along with a sharp and damp heat between my thighs that refuses to dissipate.
So much for my control, I think to myself. He managed to make me feel this, without ever laying a hand on me.