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An amazing man who might be in danger, thanks to me.
It seems like even the shower isn’t enough to wash away my anxiety. Now, it’s Christian I’m concerned for rather than Kyla. I still don’t know why she was so upset with me for leaving. I figure she’d be glad to see me go, glad to know there’s no longer a target painted on her back. But there she was, arguing, fighting me. She’ll see this was for the best. I’m sure she will. But that still leaves me worrying about Christian. No matter what he says, he doesn’t know who we’re dealing with. He’s not the one who’s had to run from this psycho all these years.
And he has no idea how far this guy will go. He wasn’t there in that alley. He doesn’t know how depraved this person is. How vile.
Right. Maybe if you tell yourself that, you’ll eventually believe it. Even now, there was a stirring in my core at the thought of being on my knees and at his mercy...
I can only hope Christian makes good on his promise of keeping me safe. Otherwise, I’m at risk of getting hurt again.
And of liking it again, too.
“No!”
My eyes fly open, and for a split second, I don’t know where I am. My heart is pounding in my ears, hammering hard enough to make me sick. I’m disoriented, sweating, shaking.
I was back in that alley. I could even smell the urine, the garbage left to rot in the shadows. I could feel the ground under my knees and the thighs of my attacker under my hands as he forced me—as he made me…
Rolling onto my back, I get an even bigger surprise. A man is standing at the foot of the bed, watching me. Maybe it’s that I’m still half asleep, still stuck in that nightmare, but I scramble as close to the headboard as possible, hugging the padded surface.
He takes a step forward, and a beam of moonlight illuminates his familiar face. “It’s only me.”
Right. I’m with Christian. This is Christian’s bed, Christian’s room, Christian’s apartment. I’m miles and miles away from that alley, somewhere safe and comfortable. I have nothing to be afraid of.
Still, when the pounding in my ears turns to more of a dull roar, and I can hear myself think again, one question demands to be voiced. “Why were you standing there? You scared me.”
“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, his expression shifting into one of regret. “That’s not what I intended. You called out for me when you were dreaming.”
“I did?” I touch a hand to the side of my head, my mind still in a bit of a fog. The tangled mass of hair tells me I must have been tossing and turning, too. Now seems like the last time I should be worried about my appearance, but I can’t help wanting to smooth it down. What girl wants a man to see her looking like something out of a horror movie?
Especially a man who looks the way he does—his magnificent physique displayed thanks to the fact that he sleeps wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. His body is extraordinary, chiseled, practically begging for me to run my fingers along the rippling abs and the V-shaped cut of his muscles as they trailed down, down, beneath his waistband.
Even now, still gripped with terror, I can’t ignore the intensity of our chemistry.
“I’m okay,” I murmur, finally loosening up a little, no longer clinging to the headboard. I force myself into a more neutral position and try to offer a reassuring smile. “Really. Thank you for coming in to check on me.”
Instead of leaving me alone, which I half expect him to do, he sits on the corner of the bed near my feet, giving me my space rather than invading it. Just one more thing to appreciate about him. “Before long, you won’t have any reason for these nightmares. Once you’re accustomed to feeling safe and cared for, there won’t be any reason for them.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I know I am.” His eyes meet mine in the near darkness. They shouldn’t glitter the way they do, practically blazing as they hold mine. I can barely breathe. He’s so overwhelming. Not in a bad way, though. I don’t feel threatened.
Instead, I feel... almost cherished. It’s a funny word, one I’m not exactly comfortable using. I guess that’s because I’ve never felt cherished before, not in this way. Certainly not by Taj, who’s the only man I can compare him to.
I called his name, and he came on the run. He might’ve been fast asleep, but he didn’t waste any time checking on me.
He goes to the kitchen, returning with a glass of water. “Here you go. In case you need it.” He sets it on the nightstand, hesitating, and I wonder if he’s as reluctant to leave me as I am to let him do it.
