I should have pulled away. Should have put distance between us, given him space to process whatever was happening in his head. Instead, I pressed back—just slightly, just enough to make my intentions clear.
His breath caught.
"Don't." The word came out strangled. "If you do that, I'm going to?—"
"Going to what?"
His hand splayed across my abs, fingers pressing into the muscle there. Heat pooled low in my belly.
"Things I'm not ready for." He pressed his forehead to the back of my neck. "Things I don't know how to want."
The vulnerability in those words hit me like a fist. I turned in his arms, facing him, close enough that our noses almost touched.
"Hey." I waited until his grey eyes met mine. "We don't have to do anything. We don't have to figure this out today."
"I want to." His thumb traced my hip through my shirt. "That's the problem. I want to, and I don't know what that means, and I—" He broke off, jaw tightening.
"And you're scared."
"I'm not—" He stopped. Exhaled. "Yeah. I'm scared."
I kissed him. Soft, close-mouthed, more comfort than passion. His hand came up to cup my face, holding me there, and when I pulled back his eyes were suspiciously bright.
"No rush," I murmured. "I'm not going anywhere."
A knock shattered the moment.
"Axel!" Irish's voice, entirely too cheerful for whatever hour it was. "Hawk wants you in Church. Something about the Devil's Dust situation."
Axel closed his eyes, muttered something under his breath that sounded deeply profane.
"Be there in ten."
"He said now."
"Ten minutes, Irish."
A laugh from the other side of the door. "Sure, boss. Take your time. We all know what 'ten minutes' means when there's a pretty nurse involved."
Footsteps retreated down the hall, and I buried my face in Axel's chest to muffle my laughter.
"I'm going to kill him," Axel said flatly.
"He seems fun."
"He's a menace." But there was fondness underneath the annoyance. He pulled back, sitting up, and I immediately missed his warmth. "I need to handle this. Will you be okay?"
"I'm a big boy."
His eyes darkened at the wordbig, and I watched him physically shake it off. "There's coffee in the common room. Food too, probably. Make yourself at home."
"And if someone objects to a stranger wandering around?"
"They won't." He stood, stretched—his shirt riding up to reveal a strip of tan skin and dark hair trailing down—and caught me looking. A slow smile spread across his face. "See something you like?"
"Maybe."
"Hold that thought." He grabbed his cut from where he'd draped it over the chair, shrugged it on. "I'll find you when Church is done."
