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Brows bent in confusion, she blinks a few times, then shakes her head. For a moment, it’s as if she doesn’t remember why I am here. In a blink, the bewilderment vanishes. “Yes. Sorry.” She steps aside and allows me room to pass.
First thing I take note of is how dark the house is inside. No lamps or overhead lights turned on. All the curtains drawn, staving off the last of the daylight from entering the house. No roaring fire in the fireplace to ward off the chill in the air and light the main part of the house in a soft orange glow.
The house is dark and cold and eerily quiet. The complete opposite of the woman at my side.
She slams and locks the door, then ambles past me without a word. I follow in her wake, unsure what to say or do as my eyes adjust to the darkness. After a few turns, we step into a dimly lit bedroom. She climbs on the bed near the foot, crawls toward the headboard, and curls in on herself.
I wilt at the sight.
Unlacing my boots, I toe them off and pad toward the bed. I ease down on the mattress and inch closer to her. My hand twitches at my side, but I resist the urge to reach out and touch her. Now isn’t the time. Not when she is vulnerable and scared and not herself.
“Can I turn on a light?”
Her ragged breaths mingle with the loud whoosh of my pulse in my ears, filling the silence. Frozen beside her, I wait for a response. Breath by breath, time stretches longer and longer. And for a beat, I take advantage of the moment, make use of the darkness.
My eyes dance over her face. Trail the angle of her jaw down to the curve of her chin. Drift up and over her plump lips to dip in her cupid’s bow. Sweep up the slope of her nose to the arch of her brow.
This woman… damn, she is a punch to the gut. A hit I will gladly take again and again.
The mattress dips and I suck in a sharp breath as she inches closer, hints of peach and jasmine invading the air. I bask in her scent, her nearness, her warmth. Let it consume me for this small blip in time.
In a literal blink, the moment ends. Light filters through the room and I squint at the sudden brightness.
“Sorry.” She inches away and resumes her spot on the bed.
Easing my eyes open, I truly take in the sight of her. Curled in on herself, she stares at the bedding tugged close to her chest. She fists the blanket tighter and tighter with each breath. And when my gaze dips to meet hers, when Iseethe alarm in her dilated pupils, a snake slithers around my heart and constricts the pained organ.
The need to comfort her, to hold her, to protect her surges in my veins. And before I second-guess my instincts, I move across the bed and wrap her in my arms. She stiffens at the contact, but doesn’t pull away. Heart pounding against my rib cage, I hold her steady. Minute-long seconds of silence pass before I sense her shift on the bed. Her frame relaxes in my arms as her body melts into my chest.
My eyes fall shut as my arms band tighter around her. Lost in the moment, I breathe her in. Absorb her weight as she gives me more of her. Let my mind wander for the briefest of seconds as she shares a piece of herself with me she never has—her vulnerable side.
Holding her as if she is mine is surreal. Buried in the crook of my shoulder, her warm breath on my neck… god, I’ve fantasized about holding her in my arms. Molding my body to hers. Kissing her hair, her forehead, the tip of her nose, her lips.
For months, my daydreams of her have been the best distraction—from work and responsibilities. Our early morning flirt sessions always stoke the fire I feel near her. Every smile, every laugh, every look in my direction fuels my need for her. As for my nightdreams… explicit doesn’t begin to cover them.
Her arms circle my waist as her fingers fist my hoodie. She breathes slower as the tremor in her limbs dissolves. As if I’ve done it countless times, I press my lips to her hair. Kiss her crown in an effort to lull her worry and alleviate my own. To my surprise, she inches closer. Holds me tighter. Nestles deeper into the curve of my neck.
Living in this moment for hours and days and weeks would be sublime. A literal dream brought to reality.
But she came to me for a reason. She needs help, protection, someone to keep her safe. Much as I want to exist in this bubble with her, ignoring the reason I am here in the first place is irresponsible and selfish.
Loosening my hold on her, I inch back and cup her cheek, my thumb brushing her soft skin. A finger drifts down the line of her jaw, my eyes following the action as I lift her chin. I bring my gaze to hers, a storm brewing in her steely-blue irises.
Fuck, I want to kiss her.
Not now.
Mentally shaking off my desire, I swallow and find my voice. “Talk to me, sunshine.”
“I found—” A loud grumble fills the room and cuts her off.
My thumb caresses her chin. “When’s the last time you ate?”
Her eyes drift to the side, lost in thought a moment before she shrugs.
“Let’s order food. Then you can tell me about this note.”
Takeout boxes and soup containers cover the coffee table in Kirsten’s living room. Hints of basil and mint and fish sauce mingle with pine and smoke. Warmth fills the expansive living room as a fire roars feet from where we sit on the floor.
