“It’s not real.”
“Wake up. I need you to wake up.”
“You have to let go, Wade, let go.”
Her words, combined with the steady flutter of her thumb over his wrist, lift the cloud of confusion. It’s easier this time to recognize her. He doesn’t startle or shy away. Doesn’t take his aggression out on the closest thing, but he’s still wrapped around her so snug it has to be painful.
He pulls away, rolling onto his back to catch his breath. “Sorry. Did I hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine.”
He has a feeling that’s a lie. His muscles are half as strong, but he’s still bigger than her, and the worry in her voice as she tried to soothe him was clear.
“I should have moved to the floor before I fell asleep. We can’t do this. This always happens.”
She turns to face him, propping up on an elbow to rest her other palm over his chest. “You didn’t hurt me, Wade.”
“Don’t mean I won’t next time.”
“You’re getting used to this. You knew it was me right away.”
He sighs, unable to deny that she’s at least partly right. The contact didn’t spark fear because some part of him knew it was her even before he woke. He felt her body against his and sought that comfort, subconsciously hoping she’d protect him, but unable to control how tightly he begged for it.
“This is a big thing,” she says softly, always ready to celebrate his smallest successes. “We slept in the same bed all night and we’re still okay. Be happy about that with me?”
It’s simple to accept the security that the sweet smile on her lips offers. “Okay.”
She grins wider, rubbing her palm over his chest in wide, lazy circles. “Good. Because I don’t want to sleep apart again.”
“I don’t want to either.”
If he’s forced to leave tonight, he’ll mourn the loss of her after having gotten a taste of what he needs most. His worry is never far behind, though, prompting the same conversation they’ve had before. “If something happens. If the next time is worse—”
“What if it’s not? This might be helping. We’ll never know unless we try, and I’m willing to take the risk. You need to trust me enough to make these choices for myself.”
“Will you keep the knife under your pillow like before?”
“I won’t.”
“That’s the only way. I gotta know you can protect yourself if I lose it. Promise me.”
There’s not a chance she’ll stab him even if he’s about to kill her, but he can fool himself into thinking she has a safety net.
“Fine. If that’s the only way you’ll agree to it. It’s settled then? You’ll sleep here with me every night?”
He nods and her relieved smile prompts one of his own as he relaxes into her touch.
She’s good at this. Flooding. Getting him used to being touched until it isn’t a stress point. Those wide circles fan out to curve over his shoulder and across his collarbone.
On the whole, he’s surprised by how simple it is to be with her. Even before the cell, he never enjoyed this kind of closeness. His heart never stayed with anyone else long enough to desire it.
After, everything that made a real relationship impossible was only amplified.
His eyes slip closed as her fingertips trace his cheek before the warmth of her lips press to his temple. It’s a careful gesture with no intent behind it, only meant to comfort him, but his body wants her even when his mind isn’t ready. His cock tents his boxers beneath the covers and he can only hope she doesn’t notice. He’s confusing himself these days with the rapid fluctuation of his reactions to her. Half the time, he wants to bury himself inside her and never leave, and the other half, he is more convinced than ever that it can never happen for more reasons than he’s willing to list.
Do friends lie like this in bed, half clothed, wrapped up together and trading gentle touches? The answer is an obvious no, unless he’s been confused about the true definition of friendship. He isn’t blind to what’s developing between them. He simply has no idea how to handle it.
Then the doorbell rings, startling them both. At least he didn’t lunge for the shotgun this time before following her to the door.
