* * *
Becket’s muscles were tense.All he could think was—it could have beenherin the fire in Cheyenne. She could have lost her life and she wouldn’t be here right now.
Fuck, he hated that thought.
There was more to her story that she wasn’t sharing. How much more, he wasn’t sure. Did it explain her cryptic statement about the smoke making her drink?
He filled a glass with water. Maybe there’d come a time when she’d trust him enough to open up about her past.
He moved back to the couch…and chuckled.
She was asleep. He shouldn’t be surprised. She’d been struggling to keep her eyes open since the second she sat on his couch.
He set the water onto the coffee table and crouched in front of her. “Sky.”
Nothing. Not even a flicker of her eyelids. She was completely out.
Unable to stop himself, he grazed another lock of hair off her face. Just like earlier, his fingertips ran over her skin, and all he could think about was how damn soft it was.
He blew out a breath and looked at his front door. He could take her home, but no part of him felt comfortable leaving her alone in her house after she’d drunk so much.
She could take his bed, and he’d take the couch.
He eyed the sofa. It was too damn small to be comfortable, but fuck, he’d slept in worse places during his time as a SEAL.
He went into his bedroom and pulled the sheets back on his bed before returning to the living room. Gently, he slipped his arms behind her back and knees. The second her body was settled against his, his gut gave a fucking kick.
Jesus, why did she feel so good against him?
He carried her down the hall and lowered her to the mattress. Carefully, he removed her shoes before pulling the covers over her. Immediately, she rolled into a ball on her side.
He was about to walk away when she mumbled something.
He frowned and stopped, listening.
Then she whispered again, “Charlie.”
Who the fuck was Charlie? An ex?
The thought put a sour fucking taste in his mouth.
Back in the kitchen, he poured himself a shot of whiskey. The liquid burned his throat going down, and he grimaced.
He shouldn’t care if she was saying an ex’s name in her sleep. They weren’t really dating, and they’d only kissed once. One fucking time. It shouldn’t have had such an impact on him.
So whydidhe care?
He grabbed some blankets from the hall closet and moved back to the couch. Once the lights were off, he stripped to his briefs and lay down.
It would be a damn uncomfortable night. Not only because the couch was small, but because every part of him was hyperaware of Sky a dozen feet away. Sleeping in his bed. Her soft curves tangled in his sheets.
Shut it down, Becket. He closed his eyes.
He didn’t know how much time passed. An hour? Two? But he wasn’t even close to falling asleep when a rustling somewhere in the house sounded…then footsteps.
The fuck?
He threw off the blankets and was about to get up when a figure appeared from the hall.
