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His stomach knotted tighter.
But he brushed aside all of that as he combed his fingers through tousled auburn strands. Right now, he just wanted to lie by her side. Hold her.
“I never thought I would say these words to you, Fleur Barclay, but I agree with you one hundred percent.”
Tomorrow would be soon enough to deal with the fallout that was inevitable from their night together.
Fleur wasn’t certain how long she slept.
Her bedroom remained dark save for moonlight, and the rain outside had slowed to a gentle patter on the roof. The sound normally soothed her, but with Drake stretched beside her, his hand still cupping her hip even as he dozed, she felt a spike of nerves.
What had she done?
Shifting on her pillow so she could watch the man beside her, Fleur’s gaze swept over his strong, square shoulder where he lay on his side. His body tapered toward his waist and hips, an impressive V. She wanted to reach out and trace that slope along his lateral muscles, but she didn’t wish to wake him.
Not when she needed to think.
Because sleeping with Drake hadn’t been any part of her plan. Ever.
She lifted her gaze to his face, where she could see the shadow of dark bristles along his jaw. The moonlight filtering through the shutters turned everything a shade of gray in the room, giving the moment an otherworldly feel. As if Drake were a night phantom who might disappear into thin air.
But that wouldn’t happen. His presence was solid. Real. He’d made her feel things she’d only dreamed of before given the way she’d put off sleeping with anyone else after the disaster of her relationship with Colin.
Who got pregnant after having sex exactly once?
Fleur, that’s who. The only guy she’d ever been with intimately—before Drake—had left her pregnant. Then he’d walked away without so much as a goodbye, heeding his brother’s advice to abandon her. No doubt the relationship with Colin had been a mistake. An unwise decision by her twenty-year-old self longing for someone permanent, a family. She’d been shaking when she told Colin about the baby. But after the first shock he’d been honorable, proposing marriage and letting her take the lead in announcing the pregnancy. He’d been scared, but would do the right thing. Even though he hadn’t been in love with her—nor she with him. Not in any real way.
But knowing that now didn’t fix the damage. Damage that Drake had played a large role in. Because after being disinherited and ignored by her father, Fleur hadn’t possessed the best coping mechanisms for dealing with Drake’s interference in her life and Colin’s departure.
Hurt and grieving, she’d been a loner through culinary school, only to end up working for a kitchen manager who couldn’t keep his hands to himself. Where was her strength? Her willingness to be a badass and fight for herself when the situation called for it? Filing a sexual harassment claim seemed like too tame a response to something that infuriated her.
Coming home to Catamount had awoken something inside her. Her grandmother’s spirit, maybe. Or just a connection to the person she used to be before her family had fractured. Baking in the kitchen at Crooked Elm had reminded her it wasn’t up to her to repair her family.
She could only repair herself.
Beside her, Drake stirred, jolting her from her thoughts. His fingers flexed on her hip where his hand lay, the warm pressure of his palm enough to remind her of what they’d shared earlier. A blazing hot connection. Possibly the kind that would burn her if she wasn’t careful.
“Hmm, why are you awake?” he said in a raspy, groggy voice. “I thought we weren’t supposed to be thinking deep thoughts until the morning.” He dragged her closer, an effortless move with just one hand.
And what made that easy strength so arousing? Her heart skipped faster.
“Maybe I was just contemplating all the wicked ways I could wake you up.” She walked her fingers up his chest, reveling in the way his muscles jumped under her touch.
“Why do I have the feeling you’re trying to distract me with sex?” His hand skimmed higher, settling in the curve of her waist as his gaze searched hers.
“Is it working?” She dipped her finger into the notch at the base of his throat before tracing his collarbone.
“I’m definitely distracted,” he admitted, wrapping his arm around her waist as one strong thigh slid between her legs. “But I won’t let that keep me from talking to you if you’re concerned about something.” He stroked her hair from her face. “You looked worried when I opened my eyes.”
She could feel his concern. It was clear in the way he looked at her. In the way he didn’t seize on the sensual out she’d offered him from this conversation. Her heart turned over at the sensation of feeling...cared for.
Swallowing past the emotions that swelled inside her, she thought about how to express all the things the night had awakened in her.
“Do you remember that rodeo in town, right after my parents split, where I sang ‘America the Beautiful’?” She felt sure he’d been there. He must have teased her about it before, but she couldn’t recall for certain.
“All of Catamount remembers that day.” His fingers traced idle circles on her lower back.
“I didn’t know until afterward that everyone had the impression that I did it to call attention to myself. Some sort of ploy for the spotlight.” She had been hurt by that. But then again, she’d never explained herself to anyone, either. Never fought for herself.
