“I understand.”
Those two words mean more to me than he’ll ever know. He’s not saying them to comfort me, I can tell. He’s saying them because it’s true for him too. And I’m not sure how I feel knowing that somewhere behind those exhausted eyes, he’s carrying the same images, the same carnage on a loop, and he’s kept it bottled inside.
How in the hell are we both just walking around like this? Pretending to function?
I tip my head up and find his eyes already trained on my face. A shiver runs through me.
“You’re cold,” he says. “Let’s get you back to bed.”
He takes my hand and leads the way while I let my feet follow unconsciously. He’s being so nice, so caring. He hasn’t said anything hurtful or provoked me or even pulled away. I don’t know what to do with this version of Knox. I never have.
We stop beside my bed and he drags the comforter down. “Get in.”
I do, and he pulls it over me, tucking it against my sides. Staring up at him, I realize this is it. He’s going to take the couch, do the right thing, and I’m going to let him because that’s what’s supposed to happen. That’s the version of tonight that makes sense.
But the thought of sleeping alone has my stomach in knots. I can’t…Not after that nightmare.
When he straightens up, I grab his wrist.
“Stay.”
He looks down at me in the dark for a long moment with an unreadable expression. I wish I could crawl inside his mind and study his unspoken thoughts. I blink, as my eyes grow hot.
Then he takes off his glasses and sets them on my nightstand. Surrendering to the inevitable. I hold the comforter up in invitation and he slides in beside me. Only then, with his warmbody against mine, I release the breath I’ve been holding since I woke up.
He settles on his back and I curl against his side, laying my head on his chest so I can feel his heartbeat. He wraps his arm around me, pulling me closer.
We’re both quietly breathing, soaking up the comfort.
“Knox?”
“Sawyer?”
I trace a pattern along his shirt, not thinking about it, just needing something to do with my hands. “Do you ever feel like you left part of yourself up there? On that ride?”
“Yes.”
As I move along his ribcage, I notice every bump and ridge, the hard planes of muscle. “I do too.”
His fingers find my chin, and he tilts my head up to meet his gaze. “But a part of myself came off the ride too. It’s living inside someone else.”
I pause with my palm splayed on his abdomen, and take in his words. I should say something…anything. But his gray eyes are fixed on me, his breathing is uneven, and he’s holding me like I’m precious.
Every thought or coherent response escapes me, except one.
Kiss him.
I press up on my elbow and touch my mouth to his, soft and tentative, giving him every chance to pull away. Time stops. I open my eyes, get ready to back away—and he’s already watching me.
“Fuck,” he growls, then slides his hand from my chin into my hair and kisses me back with this low groan in his throat that I feel more than hear. It’s so hot, so incredibly feral that I melt against him.
His other arm pulls me closer, until there’s no space left between us, and I realize his hands are shaking slightly.
Knox Aldrich is shaking…for me.
He deepens the kiss, pressing his tongue to the seam of my lips, urging me to open for him, and I do. Whatever composure I had left dissolves completely. My fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer. I can’t get enough of him. It’s like I’ve been starving for this without letting myself know it.
He pulls me on top of him, so I’m straddling his hard length through his sweatpants. I’m so sensitive, I gasp against his mouth.
