“I feel like if I can hold onto something solid, maybe I won’t feel like I’m falling anymore. You’re the most solid thing I’ve ever seen.”
And she’ll be in charge, he thought.Any physical touch will beherchoice. It’s a way for her to reclaim some of the power Fat Eddy that fucking fuckhead took from her.
He lifted his arm, welcoming her to curl against his side. But she shook her head. “Will you face away from me? I want to be the big spoon.”
He wasn’t sure why a smile of delight curved his mouth. Maybe it was because he dwarfed her and the idea of her being a biganythingcompared to him was laughable. But he suspected the real reason he was grinning as he turned onto his side was he’d never gotten to be the little spoon before. No woman had ever even suggested it. And the idea of beingheldinstead of always having to do the holding was oddly appealing.
She moved her pillow close to his. Then, carefully, tentatively, she fitted herself against his back. Her hips tucked close around his butt. Her legs curled tightly along the backs of his. And she slid her hand under his top arm so she could press her palm flat against his chest.
He felt the warmth of her breath on the back of his neck and expected his body to respond in its usual way to the touch of a beautiful woman. But to his surprise, he didn’t experience that same punch of lust that had accosted him when she’d been on his lap in the pantry. Instead, all he felt was…comfort.
Her body heat seeped into him. With her hand over his heart, he could count the beats and they were slow and steady and sure. It felt like…what Black Knights Inc. felt like. It felt safe and sort of like…home.
Or maybe that was only his imagination.
He’d never had a home. How could he possibly know what one felt like?
For long moments, neither of them moved. Neither of them spoke. Then, her whispered words fell hot upon his neck. “I’m sorry for what happened to you. In foster care, I mean.”
He swallowed convulsively. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, too, Sabrina.”
She squeezed him. Just a little. Then she relaxed, and within seconds, her breaths evened out.
He lay there in the darkness. No longer cold. No longer wanting to change places with Britt.
He lay there in the darkness and thought…
This is what it’s supposed to feel like.
He wasn’t sure whatthiswas, exactly. All he knew was that it felt right.
20
The flickering flames in the fireplace made shadows dance across the ceiling. Julia stared at them and tried not to think about how Sergeant Britt Rollins was only three feet away.
Sergeant Britt Rollins, whohadn’tlied to her even if he’d played with semantics. Sergeant Britt Rollins, who had proved himself loyal and honorable at every turn. Sergeant Britt Rollins, who had trusted her to hear the evidence of his brother’s innocence and come to the correct conclusion concerning what to do with that information. Sergeant Britt Rollins, who had emerged from the shower in a tight black undershirt that emphasized the breadth of his chest and gray sweatpants that emphasized the breadth of…well…nothis chest.
Hubba, hubba, and holy screaming ovaries!
He wasn’t asleep. That much she discerned from the quiet way he breathed. But neither had he said anything since they’d claimed their places for the night.
She kept expecting him to say…something.
Or maybe she justwantedhim to say something because she loved the sound of his voice. Loved that deep, melodic Lowcountry drawl that was the auditory equivalent of sweet sun tea.
How many times had she fantasized about him whispering naughty words that would make her face flush and her blood rush? How many times had she heard his voice in her dreams only to wake up hot and bothered and unable to get back to sleep without first reaching into her bedside drawer for a little battery-powered relief?
Too many times to count.
And speaking of being hot.
A bead of sweat slipped between her breasts and had her kicking off the colorful afghan blanket she’d pulled from the back of the sofa.
The coolness of the room’s air was a blessed relief against her bare toes. But it wasn’t enough. She couldn’t get comfortable. She was still too hot. Plus, someone was snoring in the next room. And the pair of flannel pajamas Britt had supplied her with—a donation from whoever owned the cabin—were too tight.
Or maybe that’s just my skin,she thought.
She had the oddest feeling. Like something inside her needed to burst free. Like the very essence of her being was too confined and needed an escape and?—
