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She was already barefoot, and the jeans Lukus had brought to the hospital for her in California slid down her legs easily. He caught a glimpse of her flat stomach and skimpy panties just before pulling the tee shirt lower to protect her modesty.
Dylan pulled back the sheet, maneuvering Hannah until her head rested on the pillow. It took all his self-control to pull the sheet up. He leaned down, letting his lips linger on her forehead for several seconds, delivering what he hoped felt like a platonic kiss. The rushing of blood to his damn cock reminded him that his feelings towards Hannah were anything but innocent, but the woman had been through hell. The last thing she needed right now was a man pressing himself on her.
As he pulled away, moving to leave, she challenged him. "Wait. You aren't staying?" Her voice was soft. Vulnerable.
Her question gave him hope that she might have feelings for him in return, yet he remained strong. "I think you're too tired right now to deal with me staying here with you. We'll talk more tomorrow."
She reached for his hand, her grasp firm, determined to hold him near. "Please, Dylan. You're tired, too. I thought..."
In that moment, she looked so young. So unsure of herself. She was floundering in her emotions as much as he was.
He was tempted. So fucking tempted. He wanted to strip down and lie next to her. To feel her in his arms. To make love to her until she was convinced he'd never let anything bad happen to her again.
If only it were that easy.
It was the single tear that fell on her bruised cheek that finally tore down his final bit of self-control. There was no place in the entire world he'd rather be in that moment than in that queen-sized bed, holding the beautiful woman in front of him.
He toed off his boots first. Their eyes locked as she finally released his hand, recognizing that he'd decided to stay. If he'd suspected that the sexual tension between them was one-sided, those doubts were put to rest in that moment. As exhausted as she was, Hannah's eyes sparked with a desire he marveled at considering all she'd been through.
Moving slowly, he pulled his tee shirt off first. She broke their eye contact to rake her gaze over his chiseled chest. He'd worked out extra hard the last few weeks, trying to burn off his anger towards Jake Davenport. He saw the concern in her eyes as she discovered the four-inch scar under his left ribcage, a souvenir from the worst day of his life.
His jeans pooled on the floor next. He left his boxer briefs on as he pulled back the sheet to lie next to her. Hannah snuggled in close, replacing her pillow with his chest. She draped her left arm and leg across his body, clinging to him as if he were her lifeline.
It felt perfect.Shefelt perfect.
He hugged her close, kissing the top of her head, her long sandy brown hair a mess, yet still somehow smelling fresh, like apple and vanilla shampoo. It calmed him to have her safe in his arms, and he felt tension leaving his body that he hadn't even recognized he had still been carrying.
The little minx in his arms should have fallen into an exhausted sleep, yet he could feel her slowly humping against him, the sexual tension growing. As tempted as he was, he knew in his heart what they both needed most—and it wasn't sex.
"Goodnight, Hannah."
Her frustrated sigh was adorable. "Goodnight, Dylan."
Despite her attempts to keep them awake, he felt her fall into an almost immediate slumber. The tension seeped out of her body as she relaxed into his arms, her soft breathing even and steady. This was heaven. He fell into his own deep sleep, finally allowing himself to believe that the nightmare was over at last.
Chapter Sixteen
Hannah
Hannah awoke to the best sound in the world. The sun was just peeking in through the small slit of the drawn curtains in the guest bedroom she'd been holed up in for the last thirty-six hours. The soft snores of a sleeping Dylan comforted her. She snuggled in his arms, wanting to be closer to the man who'd saved her in more ways than one.
He'd barely left her side since rescuing her from Jake's house of horrors. For that, she was grateful.
She'd spent the entire previous day in bed. Sleeping. Waking to eat, drink and shower, only to sleep and do it all over again. She'd taken at least a half-dozen showers since leaving California, yet she still felt dirty. She hoped the feeling would go away once the bruising her captor had left as a souvenir faded.
Through it all, Dylan had been her rock. Steady. Protective in a way she'd never known a man to be. Truth be told, he scared her, but in a totally different way than Jake had. For the first time in her life, she felt like she cared about someone enough that he had the power to break her heart.
For all the time they'd spent together, Dylan hadn't crossed the line. He'd never been anything but the perfect gentleman. In the beginning, she had treasured him all the more for it, yet she'd begun to worry that she'd imagined the sexual attraction between them.
He was just being a gentleman helping you. You need to stop lusting after him before you make a fool of yourself.
Even she was surprised that she could feel physically attracted to someone so soon after being sexually assaulted. She'd had plenty of quiet time to think about it, and had come to the conclusion that what Jake had done to her had much less to do with sex, and more to do with violence. Dominance. Humiliation.
The feelings she had towards Dylan as she snuggled closer into the cocoon of his arms had nothing to do with any of those descriptors. In fact, he represented the opposite. Safety. Respect. And, dare she hope,love?
"Penny for your thoughts?"
She'd missed him waking up, and spoke without her normal filter. "I was just thinking about how lucky I am that you came into my life. Who knows where I'd be right now if it weren't for you?"
