I cross my arms over my chest and quietly walk to the theater room to check in on Zeb. He’s still lightly snoring in the oversized recliner, two vapes and an empty bag of THC brownie bites sitting on the table beside him.
It’s risky getting this close to him, even while wearing my fully covered bodysuit—sans sequins and studs this time. That suit was mostly for performance. This one… this is the one I use to disappear when I need to.
And right now, I need to know if he’s completely out, or if he’ll be waking up before I’m ready to leave.
I pick up the bag of edibles and read the label. 100mg, ten each.
Shit, I wonder how many he ate.
I lay the bag back down and step around the side of the chair, peering over and trying to judge just how rotted he is in the chair. He looks pretty out. Still, I want to be sure.
I take my hand from my pocket, set my feet, then poke his shoulder with two fingers, ready to dash if he stirs.
However, he remains passed out.
Thank fuck for that.
A box of squeaky dog toys sits by the wall. I grab a few of the toys as I head out of the room, intent on setting a trap by the door just in case he wakes up and I don’t hear him. I leave one on the ground, one under the door, and one just outside the door. I’m betting that he’ll be so out of it that he won’t notice them, thus stepping on the squeakers as he makes his way out of the room.
Or, at least, that’s what I hope happens.
Bonnie is moving when I emerge. I pause in the shadow, waiting to see if she’s actually moving and awake or if it’s just another of her nightmares.
One glance at the clock on the wall tells me it’s more than likely the latter.
It’s half-past three A.M., and if she has one, it’s always after three A.M.
Always.
I chance getting closer, and as I do, my heart begins to ache. Her brows are furrowed, and her body jerks slightly. If she was in her bed, I’d slide in behind her, the heavy covers between us, and I’d hold her close enough that the weight calmed her frantically beating heart. I wouldn’t think twice about that decision, though here, it’s a calculated risk.
Something about that risk makes her even more irresistible.
She curls tighter, head shaking like she’s trying to push away the nightmare, and it’s killing me not to help her through it.
I can’t stand here and watch her struggle like this.
Fuck getting caught.
I’ll take that fight if it means she isn’t suffering.
Carefully, I slip the cushions off the couch to give myself room to get in behind her. A whimper leaves her that makes me move a little faster, and when I crawl over the couch to quietly lower myself behind her, I realize how bad of an idea this is.
God, she’s intoxicating.
I’m immediately drunk on the smell of her hair, the perfect curl of her body against mine. I shift the blanket so it’s over me, too, and wrap my arms around her, left arm threading between the couch cushions beneath her while the right lays over her waist. It’s barely more than a few seconds before her breathing slows, her body relaxes into me, and I have to catch myself when a groan tries to escape my lips.
This isbliss.
The thin tank and tiny cheeky panties she’s wearing might be the reason I die tonight.
This… Her in my arms like this—nearly naked, settled and safe… this is the serenity I’ve been chasing, the home I’ve always thought I belonged to. I don’t think I realized holding her without any kind of blanket between us might be so overwhelming, so spiritual that emotion threatens my eyes with tears. My chest aches as if it’s about to spill out of my chest.
I press my forehead to her shoulder and squeeze her tighter, relishing every second. In my arms is the only place she’ll ever be entirely safe. My mind drifts to the rundown I had with Kade about the guy trying to chat with her who might have ulterior motives, and it makes me hold onto her a little more.
I have you, rockstar.
Nothing is ever going to happen to you.
