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I wrap one arm around her waist and one under the pillow behind her head, and I swear it’s one of the best feelings in the world. It’s so much better than I’ve imagined it would be. Her hands grip my arm, as if she’s trying to tighten my hold around her. Unashamedly, I bury my face in her hair and breathe in deep. Even her hair smells like wildflowers.
I pull my face away so she can hear me. “Is this okay?”
It takes her a moment to answer, and I’m just about to move away from her when she replies, “Yes.” Then adds, “Thank you.”
I use my chin to push away her hair that’s stuck in the prickles on my face. As much as I don’t want to hear her confirm that her nightmares are of me hurting her, I still ask, “Your dreams… do you want to talk about them?”
Her fingers dig into my forearms for a moment before they relax.
“There’s not much to talk about.” She stops and pulls in a breath, her ribs expanding against my arm. “I don’t remember what happened in my dream, except for being scared and hurt.”
The painful sound of her voice has my eyes closing, and I silently curse myself to hell. Why she’s lying here, willingly allowing her tormentor to hold her, is beyond me. She should be terrified. She should be kicking and screaming for me to let her go. She should be running scared and praying she never sees my face again. But she’s not. She’s here, her arms pressed against mine, holding me just as tightly as I’m holding her.
“I’m sorry,” I mutter. I know I’ve said it before, but no matter how many times those words leave my lips, it’ll never be enough. There’s nothing I could ever do to make up for what I’ve done.
She’s quiet after that, so I stay quiet as well. After a while, her breathing evens out, and I know she’s asleep. Sleep isn’t something I’ll get tonight. Not only because I literally have the girl of my dreams in my arms, but also because of the misery raging inside me. After all the years of dreaming of this woman, of watching the pain flash in her eyes and her screams of agony, of being angry that she took over my dreams and left me with so many unanswered questions, and of discovering I was the reason she was in a coma because of some weird obsession, I finally know what it feels like to hold something so precious I’d give my life for it.
And Lord fucking help me, I’m not sure I can ever let it go.
I COME AWAKE TO feel hot breath on my chest and a slender arm lying over my stomach. Looking down, there’s a head of thick brown hair spread across my chest and onto the pillow. Memories of the night before flash through my head.
My arm is still around her waist, but my palm has moved down to just above her ass. My other hand is on top of hers that’s lying flat against my lower stomach. My dick is as hard as iron. I blame it on natural morning wood, but it’s a fucking lie. It’s from the woman who is quickly consuming my every thought.
She shifts in her sleep, and a warm rush of breath fans across my skin, causing goose bumps to appear. Never has a woman affected me so quickly.
I know she just woke up because her chest stops rising and falling. I hold still, not sure how she’s going to take being wrapped around me. Last night, her emotions were high from her nightmare. There’s no excuse this morning for our cozy position. I should have taken her back to her bed once she fell asleep and I knew her dreams weren’t coming back, but I’m a selfish bastard and wanted to relish in having her in my bed.
After a few tense moments, her head moves, and she lifts her eyes to mine. Uncertainty pulls her brows into a frown.
“Good morning,” I say, hoping to put her at ease.
She licks her lips and murmurs softly, “Good morning.”
I sift my fingers through her long hair. “How did you sleep?”
“Better once I was in here.” Pretty pink tints her cheeks at her confession. It makes me feel ten fucking feet tall, knowing I’m the reason she felt better, even if I was also the reason for her distress.
“Are you hungry?”
Her answer is a nod, then a whispered, “Yes.”
I expect her to move away, so when she lays her head back down, it surprises me. What surprises me even more, and sends raging blood to my already stiff cock, is when the tip of her finger flicks one of my nipple rings.
I hiss out a breath and her fingers stop. Closing my eyes, I will my body to calm the fuck down.
“Did… uh… it hurt when you got your nipples pierced?” she asks hesitantly.
“Yes,” I answer. “Like a bitch.”
Her breath fans against my chest when she giggles.
“Why do it then?” Her finger traces the ball on one before moving to the other and doing the same.
“Because it feels really fucking good when they’re played with.”
Her fingers stop again, and it takes her a moment, but then she lets out a breathy, “Oh.”
I smile, because I know her cheeks are probably blazing right now.
