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“It’s too cold out here for you, too,” I say softly. “You should come inside.”
He swallows, and his scent intensifies. I see the emotions flicker across his face—concern, shock, and hope. Pepper and leather swirl together to create an irresistible aroma that makes me want to do awful things to his jacket again.
That feels like ages ago.
He still doesn’t budge. “You need rest and to stay out of the cold, Skylar. I mean it. Go back.”
But his voice cracks, and despite how much of an asshole he wants to come off as, I can tell something’s off.
“River,” I whisper, taking another step toward him. “What is?—”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says finally. “I don’t know if you want me to touch you, or if it will make it worse.”
It finally clicks.
“I’m fighting every instinct,” he growls, “every fucking instinct to take you in my arms, to smell you, to taste you. But you have to let me know what’s acceptable. I don’t want to hurt you any more than what’s already happened.”
He uncrosses his arms and rests his hands on his thighs, and I catch them shaking.
“I thought you were dead,” he whispers, his green eyes pained. “When we found you, I thought…” He clears his throat. “I thought I’d lost you,” he breathes. “But now you’re here, and I don’t want to do anything to fuck this up.”
I’m the one that fucked things up, I think.
If I had just listened to him and Landon, this wouldn’t have happened. If I hadn’t kicked them out that night, I wouldn’t have gone through those weeks of hell.
But I doubt telling him that would bode well.
“Then come inside,” I say softly. “Please. Don’t stay out here. Stay with me.”
I swallow nervously, afraid he’ll say no.
My clothes do nothing against the night air, and the next gust of wind that hits us has me wrapping my arms around myself and shivering.
That breaks the last of River’s resolve, and he pulls me into the warmth of his chest before I can blink.
“I’ve got you,” he breathes, and I sag against him, exhausted.
His embrace is all-encompassing. He’s warm, and he smells like Alpha.
Not the fake, artificial notes of that monster John.
This is real. This is River.
Complicated and wild.
His chest rumbles as I lean my head against it, his purr soothing me. He kisses the top of my head as his arms grip me tightly.
“I missed you,” he whispers. “Fuck, baby, I missed you so much.”
I whimper in response, scrunching my eyes shut as tears form.
“All I could think about was you,” he admits. “I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. Everything revolved around you.”
I weep in his hold, gripping his shirt in my fists. “Don’t say that. You should have taken care of yourself.”
“I know,” he admits. “But it was hard to when I knew I wasn’t able to take care of you. That I wasn’t there to protect you.”
My tears dampen his shirt. “It was my fault,” I choke out. “I got myself into this. I shouldn’t have told you to leave. I shouldn’t have said?—”
