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When he returned, she watched him carefully, her stare both appreciative and anxious. Was she worried about his feelings for her? Or had she felt the crazy connection, too?
Trees turned those possibilities over in his head as he peeled the covers back from her body. Her naked beauty hit his consciousness one curvaceous inch at a time—her slender shoulders, her lush breasts, her tiny waist, her gently rounded hips, her sleek thighs, and her tiny feet. Damn if he didn’t want to crawl back into bed and merge his body with hers again. His cock certainly stood up and saluted the idea.
Her drowsy, half-mast eyes reminded him that she was too tired.
“Spread your legs, little one.”
Laila’s stare turned cautious. Trees dialed back his disappointment. He was accustomed to subs, women who knew that he was patient and fair but firm as hell. If he gave an order, they followed, trusting that he had their best interests at heart.
But trust was exactly what he and Laila didn’t share. Hopefully, tonight had helped to bridge some between them, but he was a realist. He wasn’t expecting a woman who had probably been abused for years to trust him in a handful of days simply because he’d made her come.
For now, he met her stare with calm patience, letting her either ask him questions or work the situation out in her head.
Finally, her legs parted and she reached for the damp cloth. “I can do that.”
He held it away from her. “I know you can, but I will. Lie back.”
Again, she hesitated, and he sensed she wasn’t comfortable. He nearly backed off, but he wanted her to learn that he would take care of her in all ways. He wanted her to realize that she could rely on him. And he needed her to understand that he had the drive and desire to care for her. That was part of his happiness.
After another stretch of silent seconds, she slowly complied.
“Good girl.” He settled the warm cloth against her pussy and wiped her gently, lingering over her swollen opening. When he pulled the towel away, he glanced at it, wincing when he saw traces of blood.
He returned to the bathroom, cleaned himself, then slid into bed, where he found her watchful and silent. “I need the truth. Did I hurt you?”
Laila’s dark brows furrowed. “There was some pain just before climax, but…”
“But?”
“That somehow added to my pleasure,” she admitted almost as if she was afraid to. “I know that does not make sense, but—”
“It does.” Perfect sense, and what it told him about her thrilled him all over again.
She could take every inch of his cock and be happy about it because she liked a little pain with her pleasure. Could she be any more fucking perfect?
Laila shrugged. “Are you going to sleep now?”
He’d rather stay up and talk to her, maybe make love again. But they needed rest, especially if he was going to drive this tank all day tomorrow to avoid highways and major towns to reach Lafayette.
Trees didn’t want to think about what came next, after she realized she wouldn’t be reunited with her sister. But one problem at a time. She would be better equipped to cope with the disappointment after a good night’s sleep. Then he’d break it to her gently, help her understand the team’s rationale.
“It’s best if we do.”
She nodded. “If you would sleep better, turn off the bathroom light. It must shine in your face.”
“It doesn’t bother me. I can sleep about anywhere. I want you to be comfortable. And I know you’re afraid of the dark.”
Laila sent him a sharp glance. “I did not say that.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s obvious.” And he was fucking dying to know why. Now probably wasn’t the time to pry, but… “Do you want to talk about the reason?”
“No.” Her answer was instant and emphatic.
“Okay. I won’t push. But if you need the light…”
“I feel safe with you here.”
That warmed him. Tonight had been good for them. Baby steps, but a start. Trees hoped like hell he could build her feelings into something as real and strong as his.
“We’ll try it dark. If you get scared, tell me.”
“You will turn on the light?”
“Or I’ll hold you until you feel secure.”
Laila closed her eyes. “Thank you for…everything.”
What was the wistful note in her voice? “You’re welcome. Sleep well.”
She murmured something he couldn’t understand, then rolled away.
Unsettled, he flipped off the bathroom light, then closed his eyes and hoped his screaming gut was wrong, that it was the jitters of new feelings putting him on edge.
Trees tried to stay awake to hear her deep, even breathing before he drifted off. But days without rest and the heavy, lazy drag of sexual gratification washed over him. He was asleep in under a minute.
