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His lips brushed my ear. “Are you gonna keep pretending to be asleep?”
Maybe.
It was better than reality.
Sunlight peeked through the curtains. I couldn’t stay here, but I didn’t want to go. I’d slept, feeling safe shielded by his arms, my fear gone.
Alex couldn’t touch me here.
My father couldn’t.
And Lincoln and Teague didn’t have to worry.
Tenderly, he kissed the side of my head. “I don’t have another shift for two days, so I can stay right here until then.”
The prospect was tempting.
I wasn’t ready to face the world.
Or Cal.
But I had to.
I twisted in his arms, unprepared for the sight of his messy hair, and stubbled jaw, and the intensity staring back at me.
“I’m sorry—”
His expression turned hard. “You don’t have a damn thing to be sorry for.”
His touch was the opposite of his look. So lightly I barely felt it, he brushed his thumb over my jaw. And I swore the wrath of God was in his eyes.
On one level, I understood his anger. I may not like Cal, but he wouldn’t tolerate any woman being harmed.
This was beyond gentlemanly concern.
I felt it.
And it scared me.
“Tell me what happened.” He secured his arm around my waist, a protective force that made me feel a safety I wasn’t sure existed.
I didn’t want to relive last night.
Yet the images flashed through my mind on a repeat reel like it was happening all over again.
Cal kissed my forehead, soothing some of the pain.
I took in a ragged breath and exhaled it shakily. But my chest constricted so tight it was as if someone was standing on it.
“In and out,” he said, mimicking the breathing technique he wanted me to follow.
I tried, and after a couple minutes, I was still rattled, but better.
“Thank you for coming when I called.” I looked down. There had been so much ugliness between us. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“I’m glad you did,” he said gruffly.
“Teague and Lincoln—”
