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“Technically, I’m not. I’m a guardsman. I go where I’m needed. I just so happen to be needed at the prison right now.” He licked his lips and paused, shifting his weight back and forth uncomfortably. “My dad was a guardsman. He expected a lot out of me growing up, especially when my mom got sick. I was expected to be the man of the house while he was gone, but it felt like nothing I ever did was good enough for him. He treated me like a servant more than a son. Initially, I wanted to be a guardsman to be like him, to prove that I could be everything he expected of me. But the older I got, the more I wanted to do it to spite him. I wanted to be better than him. I wanted to be chosen for the missions he was overlooked on. I wanted the titles and recognition he never earned. I wanted him to stand in my shadow for once. I wanted him to see me.”
Nik picked at his fingernails before speaking again. “It didn’t matter in the end. He died before we ever served together. A heart attack not long after my mom died. I was already in training, though, so my fate was sealed.”
It was a lot more than Ali was prepared for and a small part of her regretted prying when she saw how uneasy it made him. He had gone out of his way to take care of her while she was sick, and she returned the favor by opening up old wounds.
She was saved from coming up with the perfect, comforting response when he spoke first, clearing his throat. “I’m going to check on the soup.”
He strode out of the room, shoulders hunched.
Ali turned to her side and stared into the room, slightly darker now. When he came back, he had shaken off the confession, but his playful grin hadn’t returned.
Ali got a few sips down while propped up on her elbows. She took a break and let the broth and noodles settle in her stomach. She could already feel the life returning to her cheeks. Her fingertips were no longer corpse-like. They were warming up rather quickly.
Eventually she found the strength to sit up fully in Nik’s bed, the blankets still tucked around her lower half. There was a cloud of awkwardness in the air as they both ate their soup silently. The only sound was the clinking of spoons against their bowls.
“So…” he started in a husky voice. “What’s your favorite color?”
His lips stretched thin in a sly grin and she let out a half-stifled laugh. She could recognize his attempt to ease the tension for what it was.
“Blue,” she responded. Her fingers traced the floral design on the comforter. “Did your mom sew this?”
He nodded silently. “For my last birthday before she passed.”
“I bet she was lovely.” Any woman who poured this much time and love into a gift surely would be. It reminded her of her own mother.
“She was.”
He stood and took the empty bowl from her hands and returned to the kitchen. By now, darkness was flooding the room and Nik lit a lamp in the corner. He gave her one of his T-shirts and drawstring shorts to sleep in. Her own clothes were filthy from the greenhouse and damp with sweat. While she changed, he switched the sheets on the bed for fresh ones. Of course, his clothes engulfed her. His shorts hung well below her knees and his shirt draped loosely over her shoulders, but it smelled like him.
She slid back into the blankets and blissfully accepted the way the large, soft bed enveloped her. She was feeling much better after eating, just exhausted. Some sleep would surely help her recovery.
“Do you need anything else?” he asked.
She scanned the room. A glass of water. A fresh wet rag to wipe her sweat in the middle of the night. Extra blankets at the foot of the bed.
“No, I think I’m all set.” An unexpected thought crossed her mind. “Where will you sleep?”
“I can sleep in the living room.” He watched as her eyes squinted in confusion, in disappointment. He tilted his head down. “Unless…”
She gulped. She hadn’t thought this through. Her instinct absolutely wanted him to slide under the covers with her, but the voice in her head filled her with self-doubt.
I shouldn’t be doing this. Should I? But, fuck, he looks so good, and it’d be so nice to fall asleep with his arms around me.
His eyes darkened as she scooted to one side of the bed and made room for him. He pulled his shirt up and over his head, and her jaw dropped.
Oh my god, those abs.
She pressed her thighs together and bit her lip, eagerly waiting for him to get into bed. She wanted to run her fingers over those ridges again, but this time without the dreaded fabric. He turned around and she watched as he unbuttoned his jeans.
“Turn around,” he commanded her as he looked over his shoulder, hands paused at the waistband of his pants.
“Why?” She smirked. “You’ve seen mine. Show me yours.”
He fought a smile but shook his head and proceeded to undress. Ali watched hungrily. His abs were heavenly, but his ass was sinful. She might’ve let a small whimper escape her lips because he scooped up a pair of shorts and covered up quicker than she would’ve liked.
Before getting into bed, he put out the oil lamp. She could make out the outline of his figure as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She held her breath as he lifted the covers to hop into bed next to her. His body felt warm and strong, his chest pressed against her back. He roped one arm around her waist and laid his head on the other. Without a shirt, his skin was warm against her flesh.
She squirmed and pressed back into him, her ass nudging his pelvis. His arm tightened, holding her still.
