I stare at the ceiling, trying and failing to stop recreating the events of the day. This is not how I imagined the day would play out. That I would end up in my bodyguard’s home, safe in the guest room with only a single wall separating us. The room, the T-shirt, these sheets, and everything in this whole apartment smells like him. Warm and…sensual.
Like he did last night when he kissed me.
I reach up and touch my lips, tracing their fullness as I replay the scene last night. I’ve never been kissed before. All the boys in my class were always much older than me, seeing how many grades I had to skip to be with people at my level. And those who were my age were always too intimidated by me. Anyattraction I felt was too mild, and a part of me believed that I was broken—that my body just couldn’t catch up with my brain.
Until him.
The tall, handsome man hired to guard me. Instant attraction. Being close to him did things to my body I had never experienced before. And last night, he kissed me. Well, we did more than just kiss, and it terrified me a little that I could want someone with such desperation.
Still, I want him.
Lying on his bed, breathing in his scent…my body aches for him. I turn on my side to look at the wall and wonder if he’s sleeping on the other side of it. Or is he thinking about me, too?
Suddenly, a pain-filled shout disrupts the quiet, jolting me into a sitting position and sending my heart into my throat. I strain my ears for any other sounds as my mind races with all kinds of thoughts.
Is it Yuri?
My father?
Oh God, what if they tracked me here?
I tug the covers away and slowly slide from the bed. Roarke assured me that this building was secure, but what if Yuri or my father got in? They are both very wealthy men and could easily hire someone to break into Roarke’s home.
What if he gets hurt? Then it would be all my fault.
I look around for a weapon to use, and when my eyes land on the lamp, I don’t think twice. I grab the neck of the lamp and yank the cord from the socket, then tiptoe to my door. I listen for any more noises, and it’s the low groan that has me yanking the door open, ready to break the lamp over Yuri’s skull.
I peer around the door, expecting to see two men locked in a fight, but the hallway is dark and empty. The only sound is coming from the next room, so I tiptoe to the door and grab the doorknob. I’m ready to knock when I hear the sounds coming from the room.
Oh.
Wait.
Is he…? I thought the sounds I’d heard were distressed, but what if they were something else entirely?
I flush at the thought of my bodyguard in there pleasuring himself. I’m about to discreetly leave when he mutters something, and I realize the moans are not sounds of pleasure. He sounds tortured.
I turn the knob and slowly push the door open, peering into the darkness, my eyes slowly adjusting to make sense of what I’m seeing—Roarke thrashes in bed, tangled in sheets. His face—that gorgeous face—is contorted in a mask of terror.
My pulse races as I watch him, his body convulsing and his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“Roarke,” I call out, my heart clenching painfully as he twists on the bed, fighting demons in his mind. “Roarke, wake up.”
I ache to go to him, but I’ve read about night terrors before and how dangerous they can be when you get too close to someone locked in a nightmare. Still, I feel a surge of frustration and helplessness at the need to reach the man and hold him until I’ve chased away the darkness plaguing him.
I take a step forward, aching to touch him, but I stop myself, shifting to turn on the lamp on the nightstand. I nearlystep on something on the floor. I stare down at the picture frame and figure that he must have knocked it down.
“Roarke,” I try again, fingers itching to reach out and touch him. “Please wake up. Roarke!”
Still, he remains trapped in the darkness. Veins strained and damp hair matted to his forehead.
Think, Elena. Think!
I turn to look around the room before rushing to the door leading to his en suite bathroom. I spot a glass on the counter, so I grab it and fill it with water before rushing back to the room and throwing it on Roarke.
He jolts awake, gasping and choking. His eyes are wide and wild as he scans the room, and when they stop on me, I nearly drop the glass. For a full minute, the room is quiet, except for his heavy pants. Christ, he looks dangerous and so goddamned hot. No, this is definitely not the right time to notice how good the man looks wet.
“Roarke,” I whisper, breaking the silence. “Are you okay?”
