"Please don't fuck me over," I whisper. "I don't know if I can come back from another one. I've been broken so many times, Saxon. I've glued myself back together so many times. I can't do it again."
He touches his forehead to mine. "I've got no fuckin' clue what I'm doing, Terra. Never been in a relationship. Never had anyone care about me other than my brothers. All I've ever known about women is sex. Camilla…we had one night. For one night, I got a glimpse of…something. What it might have been like to…to have a person who was…" he shakes his head, chin dropping, one shoulder lifting, sagging. "There. Who saw…me, I guess."
"Men, for me, have always been one of two things: a threat, or a single-use-only toy, to play with and discard, because he's probably a threat, too."
"I just…" he meets my eyes, the deep green of his open, vulnerable, soft. It's shocking, almost debilitating to see in a man like him. "I've known you less than twenty-four hours. How did this happen?"
"Hell, if I know."
He touches a thumb to my cheekbone, brushes gently. Across my eyebrow. From the point of my chin to my earlobe. The gentlest touch I've ever felt. "I'm not scared of being shot. Stabbed. Burned. Beaten. Not scared of dying—almost have too many times. But what I am afraid of is hurting you."
"So don't."
"How can I not? And what the fuck do I have to offer you? I swore an oath to the brothers. I won't break it. So…what kind of life is that for you?"
"Me and six other men? Oh my, whatever shall I do?" I quip.
"Funny. But Rev, Chance, and Kane all have women."
"They live with you guys? In the Club, or however that works?"
"Yeah."
"And they hate every second, huh? They're miserable and trapped?"
He can't help a laugh. "No, they're happy. They're in love. Maybe it's catching, I don’t know. I always assumed I’d die alone. But then Rev met Myka and she, like, I don't fuckin' know what she did, but he barely lets her out of his sight, and she fucking loves the shit outta him. And then Kane takes off and comes back with this drop-dead gorgeous Indian girl, and then Chance ends up with a former Olympic volleyball player, and they're all fuckin' lovey-dovey and all over each other and shit."
"And now here you are." I caress the line of his jaw with my fingertips. "Here we are."
"Here we are." He leans his face into my hand. "I wanna kiss you so damn bad."
"I'm not stopping you."
"I won't stop, once I start, and I'm not about to put you in a position like that in a place like this."
I huff a laugh. "Yeah, I suppose you have a point." I lift onto my toes and kiss the tip of his nose, a silly, tender, sentimental gesture that has me questioning my sanity…until I see the look in his eyes, and know it's worth it. "Come on."
I lead him by the hand across the room to the couch.
"What are we doing?" He asks.
"You said we needed to sleep, and you weren't lying. I'm wired, but exhausted. So we're gonna lay down and sleep. Together."
"I was gonna sleep on the floor by the door."
"The couch seems more comfortable, to me." I sit down and tug at his hand. "It won't hurt, I promise."
He laughs. "Will we both fit?"
I tug again, and he lets me pull him down to his butt. "Saxon, we're gonna cuddle."
"Cuddle." He puts a spin on the word like it's some foreign concept.
"I know, I know. It's new for me too. But I figure other people seem to like it, so we may as well try it." I push at his chest. "Just lay down. We're both smart adults, we can figure this out."
Stiffly, he stretches out on the couch, more like a mummy than a man.
I cackle. "Saxon, Jesus, my guy. Just…hold me." I slip down and rest my head on his chest. "We're just catching some sleep together. I'm not suggesting you let me peg you. God. Just relax."
