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Not so dark that I don’t see the large naked shape huddled on the floor in the far corner.
Oh, Nick.
I don’t speak now. As soon as I step inside, I recognize instantly that he’s not aware of me or even his surroundings. Hunched like a child with his knees bent and his arms banded tightly around them, he rocks back and forth, his eyes open but unseeing. Dreaming even though he appears to be wide awake.
I bite back the soft cry that bubbles up from my throat upon seeing him like this. Naked. Terrified. Caught in a psychic anguish that was strong enough to wrench him from our bed and drive him here into the dark.
I don’t know what to do. Part of me knows that waking him might only cause greater pain and fear, yet I can’t look away. I can’t let him suffer like this alone.
I step closer to him, easing down at his side on the floor. Tentatively, I reach to him, my fingers lighting in his hair, my touch careful, meant only to soothe not startle. Sweat soaks the thick black waves. His big body shivers against me, seeming to tremble all the way to the bone.
When he doesn’t flinch away from my caress I wrap my arm around his broad shoulders. He sags into me, his breathing shallow and rapid. The moan I heard him make before starts building once more.
“Shh. It’s okay.” Holding him against my breast with one arm, I use my other hand to cradle his head, stroking the damp strands of his hair. “You’re safe with me, Nick.”
“No.” The denial is sharp, but whispered low under his breath. He swallows, his head shaking back and forth beneath my hand. “He can hear me. He’ll find me in here.”
&nbs
p; Ice forms behind my sternum—along with a rage unlike I’ve ever felt before. “Who’ll hear you, Nick?” I ask him gently. “Who’s going to find you?”
He shakes his head again. “Be quiet. I have to hide or he’s gonna find me. He’s gonna hurt me again.”
Oh, God. I stroke his bulky shoulder, my arms barely long enough to embrace him fully. Yet I understand it’s not Nick the man I’m protecting now, it’s the boy he once was. The innocent, artistic boy whose father mistreated and maligned for as long as Nick can remember.
And now the sick suspicion I’ve had about his past—about the abuse he suffered in his childhood—galvanizes into a chilling certainty. Bile climbs up the back of my throat and it takes everything I have not to lose it and start crying. I have be strong for him now. I have to be strong for the child who’s still broken and anguished inside.
“No one can hurt you anymore,” I whisper, gathering his big body as close as I can against me. “Nothing bad is ever going to find you while we’re together.”
I don’t know if he hears me. I’m not sure I want him to know what I’ve just witnessed here. I just want him to feel safe.
I think on some level he must. A ragged sigh rasps out of him as he buries his face in my breast.
His grasp on me is unbreakable, as if he is drowning and I am his only life line.
Long minutes pass before his breathing deepens and levels out to something close to normal. It’s even longer before the shudders finally begin to subside. I don’t know how long we sit like that, huddled together on the floor in the dark.
I only know I’ll hold him for as long as it takes.
If he’ll let me, I’ll hold on to him forever.
Chapter 23
Somewhere nearby a cell phone rings. I open my eyes at the same time I feel movement behind me and hear Nick’s drowsy groan.
It’s morning. And we’re in bed together, me lying on my side and him spooning me from behind.
The phone’s ringer is abruptly silenced, then his arm comes down around my torso and draws me farther into the warmth of his naked body.
His voice croons against my ear. “Good morning.”
“What—” I swallow on a parched throat, confusion tangling my thoughts. How did we get here? Had I been dreaming last night?
But no, the lingering queasy feeling in my stomach wasn’t put there because of any dream, not even a nightmare.
Nick’s anguish a few hours ago—the night terror that pulled him away from me—was real.
As real as his heated body pressing against my naked curves now. The rigid length of his arousal moves in a slow rhythm between my legs, priming me for his entry.
