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“I know you do.” After a long moment, he murmured, “Thank you.”
His bent head put his gruff voice right next to her ear. She shivered as the husky sound set off flutters of awareness deep in her belly. A steadying breath only made it worse. The scent from his shirt was magnified times a hundred from the oh-so-warm flesh and blood man in her arms. Fresh linen combined with his musky scent was a dangerously tempting combination.
She nearly groaned in pent up frustration, then rolled her eyes in the darkness. Here he was dealing with his own PTSD, and she was getting all turned on by how damn good he smelled.
And felt.
Except some of the tension had left his body, and all of a sudden, she felt the warmth of his lips and breath on her neck. The past couple weeks of suppressed yearning flooded forward to intertwine with the more tender emotions for this wounded man taking over her heart.
She turned her head with a helpless murmur, seeking his mouth with hers.
18
Reyes pulled back at the exact second Raine’s lips met his. He almost gave in—God knew how badly he wanted to give in when he heard her second soft moan of protest—but it would be for all the wrong reasons. Or mostly the wrong reasons.
He didn’t want her pity. Nor did he want to use her to deal with his fear even though his body was already half-hard in total approval of that plan. He couldn’t let it matter that her voice and soft touch had a grounding effect that kept him from focusing on the dark. As long as she was with him, he could keep the panic at bay, and yet, he hated how weak that need made him feel. Even though she understood, he hated her seeing him shaking like a cowering dog.
He reluctantly felt for her hand, fitting her smaller palm against his. “Come on. I can take you back to the guest house.”
“In this rain? Not a chance.”
Her instant, firm refusal triggered a knee-weakening wave of relief.
“I’m waiting upstairs with you until the power comes back on,” she stated. “Or the rain quits.”
His chest tightened at the last bit she tacked on, and a knot formed in his stomach at the thought of her leaving before the power came back on. He didn’t argue any further as he felt along the stalls to the stairs, because selfishly, he’d ta
ke whatever he could get.
In the apartment, he closed the door behind her before pausing a moment to picture the layout in his head. Dark or not, he needed to get some space between them. “You can have the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
When he led her toward the bedroom, she resisted. “I thought we could talk.”
Talk. Dev had said he and Shelby did lots of talking. But that would only bring them closer.
Keeping Raine moving, he countered, “It’s late.”
“I’m not tired.”
Neither was he, but—
They’d reached the doorway, and he steered her into the room, but when he would’ve backed away, she grabbed both his hands and pulled him with her.
“Raine.”
“We can’t talk if you’re out on the couch and I’m in here.”
“Ever consider that’s the point?” It was a half-hearted protest at best.
“No.” She tugged him forward. “Come on, are you really going to leave me in here all alone?”
He should. He really, really should. Yet, his feet were still following her to the bed. “You don’t have to do this,” he said gruffly.
“Do what?”
“Babysit me. I can deal with this.”
“I’m sure you can. But why do it alone when you don’t have to?”
