29. Chapter 29
twenty-nine
My eyes open to sunlight streaming through the bedroom curtain. I’m on my side, Laurel nestled against me, her ass brushing against my morning wood.
We slept together in each other’s arms.
I fell asleep and awoke trying to rack my brain around it. How can it feel so natural? She should’ve been here all along.
I’m not sure if the light woke me or my aching cock, which got a taste and wants more, but she’s sound asleep and a part of me can’t do that to her.
Well, hell, yes, I could.
But I don’t know if she’s going to wake up and regret what we did. She might bolt and run—so I let her sleep, watching.
I can’t help but touch, softly smoothing strands of hair from her face.
I bet she hadn’t slept like this since she landed back in Ladera. I wore her out.
No telling how many sleepless nights she had before she finally made up her mind to leave that prick. She’s angelic, peaceful, her long dark hair spilling everywhere.
I slip from the bed and head to the bathroom, then the kitchen, starting a pot of coffee. Taking my first long drink when—
“Oh, no!” she wails from the bedroom.
I’m back in a few strides, heart pounding. “What?”
She’s sitting up in bed, covers clutched to her chest, her eyes wide, darting. Her breath stutters, like her lungs can’t decide whether to pull in air or hold it. “I have a job interview!”
She throws the covers off and scrambles—naked, frantic, grabbing clothes—and all I can do is stand in the doorway, coffee in hand, not even trying to swallow this laugh. “Laurel?”
She freezes, eyes on me.
“Chill.”
“But I have to go.”
“It’s six o’clock in the morning.”
Her shoulders drop as she looks around the room, a little disoriented.
“Where’s your interview?” I ask over my mug.
“The high school.”
“What time?”
“Ten.”
“I think you’ll make it.” Christ help me. Her in my bedroom, naked as the day she came into this world. Damn, I need more of her.
But for whatever reason—I want her to ask, Truitt’s words bouncing around in my head.
And after last night—I can’t pretend he was wrong. She’s as unpredictable as a range fire driven by wind. She was actually questioning reality when she pounded on my door last night. There is no telling what comes next with her right now, all the pressure she’s under.
Fuck.
Laurel studies me over her coffee, then lets out a breath that sounds defeated. “Are you mad at me?”
“Why would I be mad?”
“Because I…” she trails off.
I take her hand, folding it in mine. “I’m not mad.”
“Yesterday, you wanted to take it slow.”
A raucous laugh erupts before I can stop it. “Yeah, and how’d that work out for me?” I ask over my coffee mug.
“Not so good.” She sips her own, doctored with cream and sugar, with the tiniest little smirk, like she had her way with me.
She could’ve been doing that all along.
“I’m on birth control,” she whispers into her coffee. “In case you were worried.”
“I wasn’t.” Because she wouldn’t have asked if she wasn’t. “I don’t own any condoms, Laurel. That’s how long it’s been.”
She whips her eyes to mine. “I know it’s selfish, but I’m glad.”
She’s still small around the edges, though. Still bracing. Watching her, something in my chest tightens. “Did he hurt you? I mean physically?”
She shakes her head. “No.” Her eyes drift around the room, anywhere but me. “I was just… alone. Always alone. Grant worked all the time. Nights, weekends.”
“Work or party?”
She shrugs. “He said he was working.” She plays with the handle of her mug.
“Now, I wonder—about everything.” She looks away again.
“I left Franklin the day my investigator handed me pictures of Grant with one of his female clients. Let’s just say, that’s not my idea of working.
I left the ring on his bedside table, packed up Bowie and everything I wanted from that house, knowing I’d never go back. ”
I swallow hard. That’s a hurt I can’t comprehend—betrayed by the man who gave her a son. All those wasted years. “I’m sorry.”
“Calder?”
I meet her eyes.
“What we had last night—it was never like that with him. Ever.”
A hard breath moves through me, pride and anger tangling in a way I don’t want her to see. I take her face in my hand, stroking her cheek, lost in her eyes. “That dream you had?”
She nods.
“There’s no way to count how many wet dreams I’ve had about you. Through the years…” I shake my head. “I still can’t believe last night wasn’t a dream.”
“You scared me yesterday,” she whispers.
That lands like a shot to the ribs. I straighten, taking my hand away. “Scared you? How?”
“Not hearing from you after… our night. Then you were… I don’t know… different. Unflappable.” Her eyes search mine. “Did you decide at the Dust Devil that you didn’t want me? That I’m too much trouble?”
How the hell did she come up with that?
Damn. That vampire sucked all the confidence right out of her. She can’t see how good she is.
“Laurel… if you don’t know how I feel about you by now—”
“I’ve been honest with you. Why can’t you be honest with me?”
Shit.
I drag a hand across the back of my neck. “Fighting the fire. A friend said women coming out of divorce need time alone. To get their bearings. I was… trying to give you what you need.”
“I need you.” Her gaze is direct. Unflinching.
Spineless fucker, just say it.
Cupping her face, I stroke her cheek with my thumb and kiss her softly. “I need you, too.”
Now how the fuck am I supposed to protect her from this. From whatever we just crossed into, and the part of me that already knows—this time, no way in hell will I be able to let her go.