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"And mine."
"You’ve already proven yourself with your military career. In fact, I still don’t understand why you needed to accept this role as captain. It’s not going to be easy to lead this team," I warn.
"I’m aware." He rises to his feet and keeps rising so I have to tilt my head right back to meet his gaze. "And I had to do this."
"But why?"
"It’s almost one a.m. Let’s talk about this tomorrow after practice, okay?"
He closes the distance between us, and his scent, his nearness, his presence—all of it instantly overwhelms me. It’s not fair he can distract me so easily.
"Good night, Goldie." He presses a chaste kiss to my forehead, then walks toward the closet. He emerges with a pillow and a duvet, which he throws down on the floor next to the bed.
He lays down, throws his arm over his eyes, and just like that, his body is still. I’m standing there, while Mr. Jerkosauraus falls asleep.
I glance toward the living area. I could take the couch to put a little more distance between us, but even though I’d be able to stretch out lengthwise on it, the bed is so much more inviting. I march over to the bed, and throw myself under the covers, then switch off the lamp. I turn my back on him and close my eyes. All the ups and downs of the day must take their toll, for I fall asleep at once.
Something infiltrates my layers of sleep, some sound, a cry, maybe? I hear it again and my eyes snap open. I sit up in bed, turn on the lamp, and turn to find Rick thrashing around.
He digs his fingers into his hair and tugs. His eyes are shut, but his features are scrunched up. Sweat beads his forehead, and as I watch he cries out, "Stop, don’t do it." The sound of his voice is filled with so much helplessness, my heart stutters. Before I can stop myself, I’ve slid off the bed and knelt next to him. His chest rises and falls; the tendons of his throat stand out in relief. He shakes his head again, then flinches—and to see this big man flinch, this confident, dominant male who’s the most self-possessed man I’ve ever met, so vulnerable and in pain, makes my insides twist.
A surge of protectiveness fills my blood. I need to console him. To somehow make him feel better. His chest rises and falls. Sweat beads his forehead, and when a shudder grips him, I can’t stop myself. I lean in and touch his shoulder. "Rick, wake up, you’re dreaming, you—" The next moment, I’m flat on my back and he’s on top of me with his fingers around my neck.
20
Rick
"Rick, stop! It’s me, Gio. Rick, please—" Her voice cuts through the noise in my head. I stare into her wide golden-brown eyes—eyes currently filled with fear and alarm, both emotions I put there. I take in her pale features, her fingers wrapped around my wrist; the wrist attached to my fingers which are wrapped around her throat. I release my hold and push away, landing on my back next to her, adrenaline pumping, sweat dripping down my chest. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." I draw in a breath and my lungs burn. I throw my arm over my eyes, trying to regain my composure. "Fucking fuck." I almost killed her. I— There’s a touch on my arm, and I wince.
"Don’t," I force the words out through my throat that is so raw, it feels like I’ve swallowed acid.
I sense rather than see her retreat. Feel the nervousness coming off of her. I lower my arm and take in her concerned features. "Are you okay?"
She nods, her movements jerky. "You were having a nightmare."
I lurch up to my feet then head to the bathroom and turn on the tap. I dunk my head under and allow the water to flow over my hair and face. I stay there with my eyes closed for a few seconds. When I feel a little more in control, I raise my head. The water drips onto my T-shirt and when I look into the mirror, I meet her eyes. Her features are pinched, but at least, her face has more color. I reach behind me, pull off my T-shirt, then hold it under the tap until I drench it.
When I turn to face her, she flinches and that cuts a swathe of pain through my chest. "I won’t hurt you."
"Oh, I know that." She waves a hand in the air. "I’m more worried about who hurtyou."
I firm my lips. "It’s nothing."
"It’s not nothing. I saw you cower in your sleep. I heard you cry out. I sensed your fear. For the first time since I’ve known you, I saw the emotions you hide under that grumpy facade you always have on and that"—she holds up a finger—"is not nothing."
I can’t stop the slight quirk of my lips. "You’re so goddamn sexy when you get pissed off."
She scowls. "Don’t try to distract me."
"Is it working?’
"Do you think it’s working?"
"I think you should let me take care of you." I nod toward her neck.
"Oh." She touches her fingers to her throat. "You marked me?"
Satisfaction flushes my chest. "I won’t pretend I regret seeing the imprint of my fingers on your skin, but I’d much prefer it to be in the throes of passion, and not as an offshoot of when I might have hurt you. Unless—" I close the distance to her, and her pupils dilate.
