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So freaking irritating.
Even worse, he definitely noticed my gawking based on the scalding stare firing back at me. His eyes simmer with smug amusement as I tear my gaze away. So what if he’s hot? He’s also arrogant, and now, a convicted felon.
Thank god I have a boyfriend so I won’t be tempted to do something stupid.
“Yeah, well, she didn’t exactly give me a choice,” I mutter, scooping my laptop from the couch and shoving it in my messenger bag. “Sorry, I have a huge paper due tomorrow.”
I take off toward my room, ignoring their stunned silence. Why should I care what they think? He’s Kim’s problem, not mine.
“She hates me,” I hear Tristan say quietly. But there’s no snark or humor in his tone this time. The resigned sadness kind of makes my stomach twist.
“She’ll come around,” Kim says. “I’m glad you’re home.”
“It’s good to be home. I…” His voice cracks, and when I peek back, I see the pain on his face as she pulls him in for a hug.
“Hey, it’s okay,” she murmurs, holding him close. “It’s going to be okay now.”
I wake early the following morning. It’s a twenty-minute drive to my job as an intern for an engineering firm, but it’s an hour if I don’t leave at the crack of dawn to beat the deadlock on the turnpike. As always, I do my best not to disturb Kim when I creep down the hall to the…
Oh shit!
I press a hand over my heart, trying to steady my breathing while I scan the shadowed figure on the couch.
Wait.
Right.
Our houseguest.
It’ll take a while to get used to that.
But my heart continues its rapid pace as I study our visitor in the dark. Tristan is asleep on his back in nothing but a pair of boxers, leaving his hard, muscular body on display like he’s intentionally trying to torture me. My eyes trace every line of his torso as if I’m a med student studying a perfect human specimen. How can someone look so flawless on the outside and be such a mess on the inside? We need to set nudity rules if we’re going to have men living here.
Men, orthatman?Because there’s no question my rebellious hormones are enjoying everything about this view. Except…
Chills rush over my skin.
I step closer, squinting into the dim light when he adjusts to an unnatural position. He covers his head with his arms like he’s bracing against an attack. I’ve never seen anyone sleep like that.Ishe asleep? The blanket Kim gave him is in a heap on the floor as if kicked off in a struggle.
Anxiety swirls in my stomach as I study the contradictory scene. This man, so physically strong and confident last evening, appears vulnerable and scared right now. It triggers a strange impulse to pull the blanket over him and tuck him in like a child. To stand guard and protect him from whatever invisible ghosts are torturing him in the darkness. Ridiculous, but before I know what’s happening, I’m moving toward him.
I’ve just bent to retrieve the blanket when he bolts up and clamps his hand around my wrist. I yelp as he jerks me toward him, but there’s an absent terror in his glassy stare. Does he even recognize me? I freeze, waiting as he flutters several disoriented blinks, his chest rising and falling in rapid breaths. When his gaze clears, he abruptly lets go.
“Shit,” he mumbles, rubbing his hands over his face. Is he shaking? “I’m so sorry, Isabel.”
“It’s okay.”
I step back, rattled as well. I don’t know what that was, but I don’t want any part of it. Can’taffordany part of it.
“I’m about to make coffee. You want some?” I ask.
He still seems lost as he shakes his head. “No. I mean, yes. I mean…”
He presses the heels of his palms against his eyes, and I sense the lingering fear as he fights to steady himself.
“Bad dream?” I ask.
He looks up again, haunted eyes flashing remnants of fresh pain before he lowers his gaze to the floor.
