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A link in the chains around her heart gave way. “This apartment is locked up tight and alarmed, which you know, as you check it every night. I’m safe here.”
“Rachel,” was all he said, in that deep rumbling tone he used solely for her name.
“Whatever.” She threw up her hands in surrender. “Sleep on the right if that makes you happy.”
After flipping the door’s lock, which she never used, Harvard threw back the bedspread and climbed in. The sight of him reclining on the black sheets, the perfect embodiment of raw male power, made her heart race and her breathing grow short. But it wasn’t from fear. Harvard would never threaten her. It was from awe.
He was beautiful. It was the only word to describe him. All glorious muscle and endless strength married with a smart brain and too perceptive gaze. He was everything she tried to avoid in a man, because she wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to resist him.
And he was in her bed.
Swallowing nervously, Rachel toyed with the necklace she only took off for sleeping. The locket that had been passed down through the female line of the Talbots for generations. The one her grandmother had given to her mother, who’d given it to Rachel when she turned eighteen.
The locket was empty. Her mother had told her, “When you find your future, this is where you’ll keep it. Over your heart.”
Why she’d thought about that while staring at Harvard, in her bed, where no man had ever been, she didn’t know. It had to be nerves. Or anxiety. Or fear. All things she never allowed herself to feel.
Never again.
With pure determination, she cast Harvard a look filled with challenge as she slipped off her robe and unfastened her necklace, which she gently placed on her dresser—beside the ring he’d given her.
“Pretty,” he rumbled, his eyes on her body. “Do you wear stuff like that every night?”
“Yes. But don’t expect to see this again. Tonight is a onetime deal.” Without hesitation, she rounded the bed and climbed in beside him, making sure to keep some space between them. It felt strange, lying in bed with someone. It wasn’t something she’d ever done, well not since she’d had pajama parties with her cousin Samantha when they were children. And Harvard was nothing like Samantha.
Rachel lifted the remote from her bedside table and switched off the lamps dotted around the room. Now, there was only the soft blue glow rippling from the pool above them.
“Do you need me to draw the shutters over the pool?” Automatic panels built into the edges of her ceiling slid out to hide the pool
if needed.
“Do you usually close the shutters?”
“No.”
“Then I’m fine.”
She put back the remote and lay there, staring at the water above her and feeling tense. It was then that she realized she hadn’t once thought about that damn photo since Harvard had stepped into her room, nor had she felt anxious about getting into bed.
A relieved breath escaped her. All she’d needed was a distraction. And they didn’t come much bigger than Harvard. Part of her considered sending him back to his room now that she was in bed and didn’t need him, but a niggling fear at the back of her mind told her not to. What if she ended up lying there alone, thinking about the photo, or worse, thinking about the attack? No, she was much better off with Harvard beside her. For tonight anyway.
“Are we just gonna sleep side by side like this?” His deep voice broke into her thoughts. “Or can we snuggle?”
That made her look at him. “Snuggle?”
Harvard lay on his back, one arm behind his head, making the bicep bulge, the other resting on his stomach. His eyes were on the pool above them.
“I told you I wasn’t perfect and that I had issues, same as everybody else. One of those issues is that I’m a snuggler.” He turned his head to grin at her, all wicked playfulness and tempting sensuality. “I also told you that I’m a bed hog, which means even if we aren’t gonna snuggle, you’ll wake up during the night with me wrapped around you anyway. I snuggle in my sleep.”
“Oh, for the love of Prada. Fine. We can snuggle.” Honestly, he was completely exasperating. “How do you do it?”
His eyes went wide. “You don’t know how to snuggle?”
Rachel frowned at him. “Do you have an opinion on that?” Because she’d bloody well send him back to his own bed if he did. She’d rather sleep in the other guest room than deal with any mockery. But only if she were desperate, because the last thing she wanted was to let them win by giving up her bed.
“I have absolutely no opinion on your lack of snuggling experience,” he said with mock solemnity and a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “I’m real glad that I’m the one who gets to show you how to do it. Now turn on your side with your back to me. We’ll start with a basic snuggle position—spooning.”
“You couldn’t just say you wanted to spoon?” she complained as she turned. “I know how to spoon.” She’d just never done it.
