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But humiliation washes over me. Not because I’m wearing boy shorts and a thin T-shirt, but because he witnessed this.
I push him again. “Please. Please go.”
For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to, but he finally lets me go and gets off the bed.
But in the low light from outside spilling into my room, he crosses to the armchair and sprawls out, in boxer briefs and nothing else.
He finds and meets my gaze. “What? I’m not fucking leaving you alone, Mia. I’ll give you the space you just asked for, but I’m staying right here. Now go back to fucking sleep.”
And with that, Christian folds his hands over his abs and closes his eyes.
I turn and curl up into a miserable ball because even though I pushed him away, I want him. Here. Holding me.
But I can’t have that. Because if I do, if I let him hold me now, like this, I’ll be lost.
Sleep comes in waves before pulling me in, and it’s like no time passes. But the next moment I open my eyes from a beautiful dreamless nothing, light is bright and spilling over me from the window, and I’m feeling good, warm.
And I’m wrapped in Christian’s arms.
He’s on the covers, fast asleep, holding me. I bite my lip and close my eyes, pretending to go back to sleep.
Pretending that this, whatever it is, is real.
ChapterEight
CHRISTIAN
Fucking hell, am I an idiot for giving in and getting back on that bed?
It’s not like I wanted to sleep on her supremely uncomfortable chair. But she didn’t have another nightmare, and still, I went to her.
She’s not ready.
Not for the level of intimacy I pushed on her. She’ll probably fuck me over and over but let me in to give her the comfort she desperately needs? No.
Right now, she’s locked in her bathroom.
I knew the moment she woke, the moment she snuggled back down. When I moved, she made a strangled little sound and took off.
The Mia I know is not a scared rabbit.
So, her nightmares stripped her so bare, she must have felt like one.
Fuck.
I shower and dress from my meager selection of clothes I have with me. There’s a suit somewhere, still in my car, probably, in case I need it, but for now, some underwear, socks, jeans, pants, tees and button-downs are all I really need. And a casual jacket to hide the holster when I choose to wear it.
Christ almighty. I sound like a fucking girl.
I head down the stairs. Mia’s still in her room or her bathroom. I don’t stop to find out. She’s still here because her car’s been disabled. Done last night on my preordered command.
I want her as mine. I want her to be reliant on me for everything. Making coffee in her spacious, bright kitchen, I make calls and search her cupboards and fridge for food as I do so.
Everything is good. No one came out here. No one went to her apartment.
When I’m off the phone, I pull out eggs, butter, and some chives. Scrambled eggs, I can do.
I shove some bread in her toaster, and when she finally appears, everything is ready.
