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Emma said good night and then softly padded up the stairs for the night. I watched from the dining table as she walked down the hall and she looked down at me, before softly closing her bedroom door behind her. I groaned and rested my head in my hands on the table. What a mess. It was taking everything in me not to burst through that door and scoop her up and take her into my bed, where I wanted to bury myself in her again. The look she’d given me when I told her I wouldn’t touch her again. She’d looked so hurt, and I just couldn’t bear to keep hurting her. It seemed like that was all I did to her, hurt her, and I hated it. Staying away, I thought, would be the best way to take care of her. At least I tried to convince myself of that.
Finally, feeling frustrated after coming up with no further discoveries or information on the issues, I made my way upstairs. I couldn’t help but hover outside her door for a moment. I could see the soft glow of the lamp from under the door, and I wondered what she was doing in there. I gritted my teeth and made my way into my own room, finally crawling into my sheets, alone.
* * *
I wasn’tsure what time it was when I awoke, but I immediately broke out in a cold sweat.
Screaming.
Emma was screaming again.
Faster than I could process what I was doing, I ripped the gun out of my nightstand and flung my door open. I could still see the soft glow of the lamp under her door, and she screamed again. I ripped the door open, searching, ready to pull the trigger, but no one was there, just Emma.
She thrashed in the sheets and I took her shoulders and gently shook her. She mumbled incoherently and cried out in her sleep.
“Emma.” I shouted it to her, but she didn’t wake.
I climbed into the bed and pulled her into my lap. “Emma, wake up. You’re just dreaming.”
Her eyes finally flicked open, and she thrashed for a moment, gasping for breath as her eyes met mine. She struggled to suck in full breaths as she hyperventilated.
“Just breathe, I’ve got you. You’re right here, you’re with me, you’re safe.”
When her breathing had finally steadied enough, I moved to get up. She slid her arms around my neck. “Don’t leave me, please.”
I blew out a breath, “Alright.” I stood up and carried her down the hall to my bed. “Your sheets are soaked. Let’s go to my room.” She nodded.
“Here.” I handed her one of my shirts, and she didn’t turn as she peeled hers off and replaced it with mine.
I pulled back the sheets, and she climbed in and I pulled her to me as soon as I slid under the sheets. She settled into my chest.
“I keep having these awful dreams. I’m drowning over and over again. Those hands around my neck, shoving me into the water.” She shuddered against me. “I’m so lonely, Mason.” She tilted her head up, “I can’t talk to anyone, and you… you won’t hardly look at me since we got back.”
I ran the pad of my thumb over her lips and then tilted her chin up to me. Her eyes fluttered closed as she waited for me. And I couldn’t bear to have her feel alone any longer. I let my lips meet hers, and kissed away the tears. As my hand ran down her torso, she gave a little whimper, and my dick lit up at the sound.
“Make me feel better.” She whispered.
“I will.” I promised, “Be good, and let me take care of you.” I rolled us over so she was on her back and my mouth quickly found its way to her sweet desire. The heat, the smell of her, the way she bucked her hips, and arched her back at my every touch. I pinned her hips to the mattress as I devoured her. And not until she was desperate and begging did I finally bury my hungry length into her tight, warm center. I tried to ignore the thought, but the fact that I was the only one who had touched Emma, who had tasted her. It made me feral. Her body was mine, and mine alone.
“What are we going to do about your dad?”
“He won’t care.”
“I seriously beg to differ.”
“Let’s not worry about him right now. We have too many other things to worry about.” She sighed, “At least I have you now.”
17
EMMA
My gaze drilledinto the gym mirror in front of me, my feet pounded the treadmill one after another. A meditation of sorts. Even from here, I could see the dark circles under my eyes. After so many nights in a row of waking up screaming, Mason had finally just moved me into his bedroom. And while I did sometimes wake up screaming, it had been farther and fewer, and when I did, he woke me up almost immediately, and in his arms I quickly settled back to sleep.
I could see the guilt, though, see how he thought of himself, about how he was so conflicted every time he touched me.
I had pushed Mason a bit, but I knew I wasn’t going to get any further information from him, so I finally just shut up about it. Sweat trickled down my chest and burned where it met my healing injury, instantly reminding me and taking me back to that day in Iran. My lungs burned as I sprinted on the treadmill, another reminder at the privilege it was to suck in oxygen, to suck in breath.
I glanced down at the distance and as I crossed the two-mile mark, I finally pulled myself up and stepped on the railing while I shut the treadmill off.
