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I might be exhausted, but I’m still a man. I still have wants and needs, and the way she gets under my skin, needling me, has me wanting to show her who is really in control. I almost wish she had fought me, so I could blow off some steam.
My thoughts make no sense, even to my own mind. I usually pride myself on being levelheaded. Knowing what I want, what I don’t want. But she’s muddied the waters, flipped things around.
Fuck.
A scream wrenches me upright,and at first, I don’t know if I dreamed it or not. It’s not like the other screams I usually hear in my dreams at night. The one I let out as I watched my mother collapse in front of me. This scream is feminine and scared. It sounds again, and I shove the covers off of me, running to the door and throwing it open.
Thankfully, the lamp in the main room is still on, and I see Geo is already at her door. He glances at me, and we wait a moment. No one is in there with her—I’m sure of it. Geo would know since he was on the pullout couch.
A few whimpers seeping through the door have my feet moving again across the room, and I push Geo out of the way before turning her knob. The room is pitch-black, and I leave the door open slightly to allow some lamplight in as I pick my way across the floor. When I glance back, Geo is gone, knowing I have this under control. I touch the bed, and I can feel her tossing and turning.
Nightmares are a bitch. I’ve suffered from them, especially as a boy.
I act without thinking, only wanting her to stop. I pull her covers back, finding her drenched in sweat. I sit and swivel toward her. Lying down and hooking an arm around her waist, I pull her cool, clammy body toward my warm one.
“Shh,” I whisper to her, and she whimpers again.
If I could see her face, I know her eyes would be rapidly moving underneath her eyelids, seeking a way out. I pull her hair off her forehead and murmur nonsense against her temple. I don’t want to wake her suddenly but rather pull her gently from this. I tuck her into me, stroking one hand down her exposed arm, and then she jerks, her head thrashing and arm flying out to the side as she grabs on to me.
“I’ve got you.”
There’s silence for a moment before I hear her quietly whisper, “Connor?”
“You’re okay. I’ve got you,” I whisper again, and her stiff body relaxes against mine.
I realize the amount of flesh I am touching is more than I imagined, and as I explore, I can tell she’s only wearing a cami and panties.
She’s still pressed against me, her torso expanding with sharp breaths. She has one hand holding on to my hip where it landed, and she wiggles, getting closer to me. I clamp a hand down on her waist to stop her, and she does. This has quickly transformed into something more than comfort, and I can feel myself growing very aware of how close and unclothed she is.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, trying to distract myself.
She doesn’t say anything for a moment before I feel her head shake.
I move back a bit, off of her, and she turns slightly.
“Don’t go, please,” she says into the darkness, and I freeze. “Stay with me?”
Fucking hell.
“I … Wryn,” I start.
“Please,” she says again, her voice small, and I cave.
“Okay.” I pull away and stand to go shut the door—and to be able to breathe for a second without her body touching mine.
Her skin is soft and doing things to me that are hard to control when I’ve been without for as long as I have.
It wasn’t a conscious decision on my part—to abstain from women. I didn’t feel right after Ruby disappeared, and then I never looked for it. I kept myself occupied, but now, there’s nothing else to distract me but the feel of Wryn beneath my hands.
I close the door and rest my forehead against it, blowing out a long breath.
“Connor?” Wryn has me moving again, back toward her.
I crawl in beside her, and she nestles up against me, pulling my arm over her waist. Then, she lets out a contented sigh.
My dick twitches against her ass at the sound, and I ache to hear it again. I shift and twirl one finger over her hip, inching the hem of her camisole higher, and she doesn’t move to stop me. I try to convince myself that I’m only doing it for comfort, but I know it’s a lie.
Wryn’s hand covers mine, stilling it, and I think she’s going to tell me to stop, which is what we should do, but she doesn’t. She pulls it higher as she turns, placing my hand on top of her breast, and that does it. It unleashes something in me that has been tightly restrained, kept under lock and key, but now, it can’t be undone.
