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“Fuck. Fuck!” Her voice raked over her raw throat.
“Baby,” he said, almost too softly to hear above her own tirade and Sasha’s confused barking. “It’s okay. Just let that shit out. Whatever you need to do.”
She shook her head. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t deal with this right now. With him. She gave another halfhearted push. But when she finally ran out of steam, almost collapsing into his chest from the exhaustion, she looked up at him.
And that did her in. The expression on his face was so heartbreakingly tender she couldn’t bear it. He’d let her beat him to a pulp if she wanted. She knew it. Saw it there. Her head spun. Crazy woman, meet immovable force. She closed her eyes, the floor feeling as if it were tilting beneath her feet. Was she still crying? Yeah, she was. She couldn’t even feel it anymore. Her chest heaved with broken breaths.
Gibson’s arms were around her before she could topple over. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you. Just take a slow breath. It’s all right. You’re tired. Your body’s giving out on you.”
“I’m fine,” she whispered.
But either he didn’t hear or he ignored it because in the next second, he was lifting her in his arms. She gave one feeble smack against his chest. No. Put me down. But the words didn’t come out. Maybe she didn’t want them to.
“Where’s your room?”
She couldn’t fight anymore. Not right now. Her head sagged against his shoulder. “Upstairs.”
Gibson didn’t say another word. He carried her up the stairs like she weighed nothing and started opening doors. When she heard the skittering of dog nails on hardwood and a bark, she knew Gib had found the right room.
“Hey, there, pretty boy,” Gibson said to Darcy. “Let me get your momma inside, all right?”
Sasha whined from downstairs, and that was the end of that. Darcy scampered from the room in search of a friend to play with. His ears failed him sometimes in sleep, but his nose was deadly accurate.
Gibson strode across the room and laid Sam on the bed. He settled her against her pillows and pulled her grandmother’s handmade quilt over her, the baked-in smell of home enveloping her. She opened her eyes, painfully embarrassed that he was seeing her like this but too wiped to fight back anymore. “I’m going to get the sheets all gross.”
He pushed her hair away from her tear-streaked face. “So I’ll wash them when you wake up. If you don’t get some rest, you’re going to pass out on your feet.”
“I haven’t agreed to let you stay.”
A little smile tugged at the corners of those built-for-sin lips. “That’s ’cause I didn’t ask. We’ll talk after you wake up.”
She closed her eyes, her lids feeling too heavy to hold up. “You haven’t slept either.”
“I’ll take the dogs out and then I’ll crash.”
Part of her wanted to peel back the covers and let him slide in next to her. He smelled good, and having that big solid body next to her felt like the best kind of medicine. But she knew that was the crazy sleep deprivation talking. “The couch in the living room is pretty comfortable. There’s an extra quilt in the closet.”
“Thanks.”
She yawned. “I’m sorry I hit you.”
Warm lips pressed to her forehead, sending a shiver right through her. “I’m not.”
She opened her eyes at that to find him wearing a resigned smile.
“I’ve taken far worse from you, mistress. If it makes you feel better, I can handle it.”
Despite her utter exhaustion, the words sent a curling warmth down her spine. “I wouldn’t be so cocky. You haven’t seen the worst of me yet.”
He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips over her knuckles. “You’re right. I haven’t been that lucky.”
The longing look he gave her nearly zapped her out of her state.
But before she could respond, he released her hand and stood. “See you on the other side, sunshine.”
She watched him go, the honed muscles in his back shifting beneath his shirt, that bitable ass fitting his jeans just right. God, he was so fucking beautiful it almost hurt.
See you on the other side.
