I had no answer for that. “You wish it hadn’t happened.”
“That’s not even close to the fucking truth,” he growled, sounding annoyed, but still rubbing my back. Still soothing me.
I inhaled his scent and tried to relax.
“I want you too much. Shit, I haven’t stopped thinking about you, aboutit, since.” He kissed the top of my head. “But now is the worst time to be distracted. There’s too fucking much at stake.”
I nodded against his chest, the deep rumble of his voice against where my face rested on his chest was somehow soothing. The steady circles he rubbed against my back made mybreathing slow. I didn’t even realize my eyes had slipped shut until my head rolled to the side, waking me up.
“Better?”
I nodded against his chest and he didn’t ask anything else.
He didn’t push, though he had to be curious.
Instead, he stayed, and he soothed, and eventually my grip on him loosened and my mouth fell slack as sleep finally claimed me and the complete and total darkness took over.
When I woke up, it wasn’t because of the nightmares, or shadows. It wasn’t from screaming.
It was Pike’s touch, the pads of his fingers danced up and down my spine, teasing the wisps of hair at the base of my neck and then all the way back down to the top of my ass.
I wanted to ask him if he’d been awake all this time, if he was standing guard all night while I couldn’t, even as I cried all over him and then clung to him like a lost little lamb. But I didn’t ask any of those questions.
I couldn’t.
His heartbeat was slow and steady beneath my cheek, and I didn’t want to risk ruining the quiet peace that had settled over us here in the dark. So I stayed quiet and enjoyed his touch.
It was too much.
Too tender.
Tooreal.
And I didn’t trust myself to handle it without falling apart all over again.
I let out a contented sigh and snuggled deeper into the warmth of his touch.
***
When I woke up again, birds were singing outside the cabin and a stream of light slanted across the sofa and the floor, telling me that morning had arrived. I took stock of my surroundings but all I could focus on was Pike’s hold. One large hand rode low on my back and the other rested lightly on my shoulder as if he’d fallen asleep in the middle of comforting me.
I should get up.
Just another minute or two.
Five minutes later, I planned to roll off the sofa and onto the floor, keeping quiet to avoid waking him too early. I needed time alone to bury my emotions deep again, to put the walls back up the same way he would when he woke up.
That was the plan.
I couldn’t be mad about what I knew would happen when he woke up because despite everything—his lack of trust, his anger, and his grief—he was here when I needed him and that counted for something.
A lot, in fact.
To my poor neglected heart, it counted too much.
Chapter Twenty
Pike
