She falls asleep, and I sit there.
Listening to her soft breathing. Her soft body on top of mine. Her soft scent swirls and mixes with my blood.Jesus.Everything about the woman is soft. Silky. My fingers lose the battle of touching her dark silky strands, and I have to stifle the deep groan that bubbles up inside my chest.
Soft.
Sunny.
Quirky as fuck.
Jesus, just watching her eat banana bread made me so damn hard, harder than I have ever been, I was actually nervous I would spontaneously come in my pants. That’s how damn adorable she is. Never in my life have I met a woman to make me feel all the insane things she brings up.
Need.
Possessiveness.
Jesus. Hearing her say the bread has been the best she’s tasted and knowing it has been made by some other man’s hand had me irrationally seeing red. Fuck, my brother Eli baked the thing, for fuck’s sake. Yet I wanted to rip his eyes out for havingbeen the one to make her dance so damn adorably and moan that sweetly.
And all she’d done was take a bite.
I figured putting her on my lap, forcing her to sit still, would somehow help the situation in my pants. But it didn’t. It was the opposite. Now, I’m holding while she sleeps. Her body relaxed, her breathing evened as she snores softly, and I’m ready to lose my damn mind.
My body is roaring to claim her.
The trust she has in me should have been fucking terrifying. She doesn’t know me. Not really. Yet she’s asleep in my arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world. She has no idea what she’s done. She’s lit a wildfire inside of me that is burning furiously. Savagely.
And she’s the answer.
Though as I look at her, I know that if I touch her, if I have her; that fire isn’t going to die down. It is only going to burn down my life as I know it.
The question is, will I let myself have her?
I don’t know the answer as my eyes grow heavier until I lose the battle and fall asleep with the most beautiful creature to ever breathe draped over my lap.
Light streams in,and I wake up. Sometime through the night, we must have stretched out, our bodies now lying on the old couch. She is against the back rest, my body on the edge about to fall, but somehow, miraculously, haven’t.
I want to stay right there, but I have to get back to my place.
If I stay and watch her open those wide beautiful eyes, I know myself. I won’t be able to walk away. Any and all self-control will drain out of me, and I can’t do that to her.
She’s too young and vibrant and beautiful. Too full of life. Her future’s too bright to tie her to me. A man who doesn’t like people. I would want to keep her to myself, and that isn’t fair to her.
I press my lips against her forehead in a barely-there kiss, and with the upmost caution, I get up carefully. Camila only stirs for a moment, and my entire body locks up solid. Half of me prays she wakes up so that I can’t walk away, while the other half begs she doesn’t. She shifts and places her hand under her cheek and sighs. A soft smile appears on her face.
I kneel in front of her. I’m playing with fire by staying around. Every second that goes by, I risk that she will wake up, but she is so damn pretty it fries my brain, tossing common sense out the window. I cover her with the knitted blanket and look at her one last time before standing fully. As quietly as I can, I pick up all the candles and clean up, leaving the banana bread for her to enjoy during the day.
The more I soak in her space, the more I find I want to stay. Help her fix things up.
It’s still sparse, obvious she is still decorating and setting up house. Some moving boxes in the corner. A couple of photographs on the wall. The old ugly couch she is lying on. She is a mystery to me.
Eclectic, beautiful mayhem I shouldn’t touch.
I’m about to face forty, and God only knows how old she is. She is definitely in her twenties. I know better than to let my mind wonder about Camila, but like my common sense, it’s long gone.
I force myself to walk out and back to my own place once I know she has power again and that her heater is blowing.
I step into my cabin, and the usual silence I always took in comfort feels too loud. And for the first time as I look out my window toward her place, my safe haven feels empty.
4
