What I wake up to is a warmth I gave up years ago. A heat only one thing can replicate. And it’s when that heat stiffens up that I realize there’s a problem. A big fucking problem.
A small gasp leaves her lips, and I don’t have to ask what’s wrong. I can feel the flutter of her heart against my fingertips.
Her back is pressed to my chest, her hair spread in black waves across my numb arm. Our legs, entangled. My hand rests so comfortably against her chest. Not against the front of her shirt, but beneath.
My previous fears almost seem laughable now. No, this is far more horrifying. The only way I can save this is to just fucking cut my hand off.
I don’t move, because how can I? She doesn’t move, either. Probably stricken with fear. I’m in the same state.
My fingers immediately uncurl around her breast, forcing me to realize how well she fits against my palm. Giving myself away as being awake, my lungs burn, demanding I breathe.
Say something, Dumbass.
“I didn’t mean to.” Forcing the words out, I realize my hand is still there. Cursing under my breath, I pull away. “Fuck, Pen. I mean it. I—”
“It’s okay.” The words come out soft, but she turns her head toward my arm, hiding her face away. I don’t feel any tears soaking my skin, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t upset.
“Pen, look at me. Please, let me apologize.” Pleading with her, I can’t help but let desperation slip through the cracks.
I don’t want her to see me as someone who just does whatever he pleases. Someone who would take advantage. I’m not that kind of man. I’m not a monster.
A shiver wracks through her, and she does as I ask, turning her head to look at me.
Instead of tear-filled eyes, I’m met with red cheeks that look hot to the touch. Before I can try to digest this kind of expression, she’s pulling away to sit up. Instead of running away, she turns to look at me.
There’s a lump the size of my fist sitting in the back of my throat, making it hard to swallow.
Penelope, in the morning light, is a living sculpture. The delicate shell of her ear, the graceful line of her neck, the artless fall of her hair—it’s a composition that demands reverence. I feel like a trespasser in a sacred gallery, guilty and grateful, knowing I should pay a fortune to simply look at her like this.
Such a conflicted expression is on her face. Staring down at me, I can only imagine the thoughts rolling around her head. “Can I… touch you back?”
So soft, so nervous, the words don’t match up.
Yet, I nod without thinking. If she wants to touch my wound, then so be it. Even if it hurts, I’ll let her memorize every curve, every dip, every scar. Whatever it takes to make her forgive me.
I’m caught off guard when she cups my cheek. Hesitant, her fingers graze my beard. This isn’t an equal trade whatsoever, andI want to tell her that, but the words dry up on my tongue when her thumb touches my mouth.
“I had a really good dream…” She stares at my mouth, unblinking. “It left me feeling weird, Judge.”
My mouth parts as her thumb traces my bottom lip. Despite being so shy, something keeps her focused.
“What did you dream about?” The question comes out as a rasp. I don’t even recognize my voice.
She bites her lip like she wants to contain the details. Pulling her hand away, the disappointment lasts all of two seconds until her hair tickles my ears as she leans over me. “Bad things.”
The way she shivers, I think our definitions ofbadare far different. Bad isn’t usually described as a good dream.
Moving to sit up, I grunt when she stops me. “You grabbed my boob,Samuel. I’m not… I want to touch you more.”
All the blood rushes straight to my cock. I grunt as her fingers go back to stroking my cheeks. “You know I hate that name.”
Penelope chews her lip as she hesitates. “Ripper told me you liked it the last time I accidentally said it.”
That cruel bastard. So much for trust and secrets.
“I don’t want others using it.” Closing my eyes, I save myself from her stare. At this rate, I’m going to plunge my fingers into her hair and pull her down. That can’t happen. “They’ll think it’s okay.”
“Then… how about I say it when it’s just us?” She asks it so sweetly, so innocently, there’s no way in hell I’m going to be able to tell her no.
