I’ve never felt this kind of need for a man.
This is… visceral. The pull to him in my gut is strong. I’m not sure when this attachment to him formed. He’s been coming here more and more over the months, but there isn’t a specific moment or event that stands out, just gentle flashes of him standing next to me, or checking on me in my stables, or his smile when he jokes with Mason.
I flop onto my back and throw my arms and legs out like a starfish and count my five fan blades over and over. Maybe the repetition of counting will help me fall asleep.
It doesn’t.
Maybe I could just go to his room and see if he’s okay. It was a kind of stressful day. The idea is ridiculous and I’m lying to myself if that’s my excuse.
Who am I kidding? I just want to be close to him.
Rolling over, I get out of bed and pad over to the door and grasp the handle, turning it.What if I’m not enough?Every insecurity I have digs its claws into my heart to remind me of how different we are.
He’s traveled the world and had countless women. I don’t like leaving my ranch and I haven’t let a man pass almost-first-base in fourteen years. He’s experienced and I’m singular. He knows multiple languages and I know English with a southern drawl.
Those words whisper across my mind, making me question myself, and I freeze, the knob stopping in mid-turn. Every little flicker of hope he’s lit in me just went out.
Resting my forehead against the cool wood of the door, the weight of loneliness and dejection settle over me like a constant companion. Letting go of the knob, I place my palms on the door as every insecurity I’ve carried for the past fourteen years sticks to my skin like nettles.
Why do I feel confident and happy when he’s next to me, but as soon as I’m by myself, I question everything he makes me feel?
A soft tap on the other side of the door startles me out of my rapidly declining frame of mind. It’s Jax, I can feel it. I can feel him.
Putting my hand back on the handle, I open the door. He’s leaning against the door frame, a hand gripping each side, hist-shirt stretching over his biceps and across his chest. His shocking blue eyes move over his t-shirt I’m wearing and then look over my face like he’s looking for anything out of place.
“I can hear you thinking through the door, lepa.”
The easy comfort I felt with him this morning is fading, and I hate it. Each moment I smiled about today being filed away in a place in my head where hopes go to die.
My eyes drop to the dip in his neck between his collarbones just above his t-shirt neck. “I couldn’t sleep.” A thought occurs to me. “Wait, were you outside my door?”
He tilts his head and tenderness shines in his eyes. “I like to make sure you get to sleep okay.”
Well, that’s sweet. Unexpected. But sweet.
I take a step closer and look at the floor next to my door. My heart swells as I look back at him. “You sit out here every night?”
The warmth softens his face as he reaches for my cheek, his knuckles sliding across my skin. “Sve za tebe, lepotice.” [anything for you, beautiful] “Tell me why you can’t sleep.”
The step I took to look out my door has me just inches from him. Tipping my head back, I look into his eyes and smile, my mind drifting to our little game we’ve been playing for the past few weeks. “Anything for you, beautiful?”
His eyes brighten, and he smiles his gorgeous smile. “That’s exactly what I said.” He pauses and his expression turns serious. “Why can’t you sleep?”
“You’ll think I’m silly.”
His hand cups my chin, the smell of leather and soap tickles my nose. “I would never think you’re silly.”
My eyes volley between his. “I miss you.”
Letting go of the door frame, he steps closer and cups my face and a smile tips his lips. “That is not silly. It’s the best thing I’ve heard all day.” His accent is thick when he says it.
Needing to touch him, I grip his wrists. “I slept better last night than I have in a really long time.”
“You only have to tell me what you need, and it’s done.” His breath tickles my cheek, and the closeness of his body to mine is making other areas tickle.
I’m getting whiplash from my insecurities and his declarations, and even though it’s probably juvenile, I want to explore them. If the feelings I’m having in my center and in my heart are to be taken seriously, I have to take my doubts seriously. I need to know.
“Why me?” I whisper, my eyes locked on his.
