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“You sure it’ll help more than it’ll hurt?” Because it’s going to kill me. The last person I’d slept next to was Rebecca, and she hadn’t been the snuggling type. Holding Diana in my arms while getting shut-eye would be unfamiliar. Dangerous to my control, too.
“I think it’ll help more than it’ll hurt,” she said earnestly, drawing the breath from my lungs with that sad little expression.
I considered getting up to shut off the lights so it wouldn’t shred me to see those beautiful blues, but being in the dark with this woman would lead my hands and body to temptation. “Okay,” I agreed against my better judgment, another reminder I was anything but myself around her. “Turn around.” I waited for her to do so, then scooted closer and drew her back tight to my chest. She parked her ass against my groin as if it belonged there, and I slipped my arm around her body, catching hold of her hand.
Our fingers laced together against her abdomen, and I rested my chin at the top of her head.
She was warm and soft and fucking A . . . she felt like home.
39
DIANA
“You’re not sleeping.” Carter’s just-waking-up voice could compete with his deep, commanding one on the sensual scale.
How’d he know my eyes weren’t closed? My back was to him. I’d done my best not to move a muscle while he’d slept, not wanting to disturb him. He’d needed to sleep, whereas I’d had plenty yesterday, and I wanted to cherish the moment of this man’s strong arms around me. It was probably a once-in-a-lifetime experience to have him cradling me in a bed, and I wasn’t going to miss out on a single second of it. I’d never felt so safe in all my life, even with the world crumbling around us.
“Diana,” he prompted when I’d yet to confirm he was right. I expected him to pull away at any second, jump off the bed like it was on fire. But he didn’t. He kept me hostage in his arms, our hands still together, resting against my abdomen.
“I’m not tired,” I admitted. “You should go back to sleep, though.” I doubted an hour had even passed since he’d closed his eyes.
“I’m good,” he murmured, the fog of fatigue less prominent in his voice that time. So much so I almost believed him because I felt his erection on my ass. “Too good, in fact.” His words were breathy that time, and at the feel of his mouth near my ear, I shuddered.
“You don’t snore. For being over forty, I kind of expected that.”
“Calling me old?”
“Mmmm. More like mature. Experienced. Kind of perfect.” I turned my head, locking on to his eyes. They were close, and zeroing in on me as if there were a million things on his mind he’d never share.
“Not even close to perfect. I’ll take the other two compliments, though.” He smiled, and it wasn’t so much forced as if he was trying to surrender to something, I just wished I could figure out what that something was.
Desperate to feel those lips on mine, but not desperate enough to beg, I shifted back around, an achiness filling my chest.
He unlocked our hands, and I felt the impending loss, expecting him to break apart from me. Instead, he moved his hand to the hem of my sweatshirt and slipped under it, resting his warm palm over my abdomen. The pad of his thumb smoothed in a circle around my belly button. “How long ago was this pierced?”
Shutting my eyes, I relaxed at his touch. “When my parents said no to getting it done at sixteen, I tried to do it myself.”
“Ouch,” he said with a light laugh.
“Yeah, it wasn’t a pretty sight. The ring never made it in, but the scar seems to be with me forever.”
“Scars have a tendency to do that,” he remarked, his tone dipping low again. He had to be thinking about Rebecca.
And now, so was I. Maybe it was finally time to get the weight of my past off my chest. “Can I tell you a secret? One of those ‘what we say in the air stays in the air’ kind of things?”
“Is that a thing?” His palm pressed tighter over my stomach, thumb going still.
“Can it be?”
“If you need to tell me something, then yes, of course you can,” he said almost somberly, which gave me pause.
Was this a need, or only a desire to unburden myself of guilt? What was I going to ask him to do, forgive me? Confess to him like a priest just because he had on a crucifix? It made me wonder why he kept it on when he continued to refer to himself as the opposite of holy.
“Don’t leave me hanging now. I’m curious.” There was a touch of playfulness in his tone, and it reminded me a bit of the man I first met at the embassy.
He resumed moving his hand, this time in small, sweeping circles over my abdomen. There was something about such soft, gentle touches from such a hard, strong man that had my heart racing that much more.
Here goes. “After you first saved me at the embassy, I developed a crush on you. So when I found out at the holiday party you were married, and to Rebecca, no less, I was devastated.”
