"Ben, you know I can't sleep here—"
My protest dies when his arm slides under my neck, hooks around my shoulder, and his finger presses against my lips to quiet me.
"Says who? Mmm?" He challenges me with a cocked brow. "We're both tired. Close your eyes."
To make sure I don't go anywhere, his arm drops across my collarbone, anchoring me to him.
I want to tell him that no moral code allows this, definitely not when both of us are practically naked, but he gives me awarm smile, like this is the most natural place for our bodies to be and asks, "Do you still have the nightmares?"
I clear my throat, silent for a beat, trying to steady my heartbeat. I'm sure he can feel it rattling beneath his touch.
"Sometimes," I say, finally. "You know, when I'm anxious, or bottling too much. Therapist's words."
"Yeah. It's like PTSD." He nods. "Doing the breathing exercises I gave you? And the cold showers?" he asks, already skeptical.
"Hell no. I'd rather die in fire than ice."
We both snort, a flash of old ease.
"But no pills," I add quickly. "I want to handle it myself."
"Good girl. Don't get addicted. The world doesn't need another numb soul," he says, and then—casually, not casually—his foot slides between mine.
I freeze, every inch of me going alert, but I don't have the will to fight Ben anymore. I don't even know if I want to.
Our legs tangle like roots underground and he whispers, breath hot against my ear, "Go to sleep. I'll be your night watch."
I turn my head toward him and whisper, "I bet you're not scared of anything."
"That's not true," he murmurs.
"What scares you?"
"I'll tell you when you tell me what you're writing."
A head shake is all he gets.
He smirks. "You're such a pain in the ass."
I smirk back. "You love me for it."
He exhales a tiny laugh through his nose, eyes dropping tomy mouth. "Unfortunately."
His hand finds mine, lifting it gently.
I watch our palms touch as his fingers glide from my fingertips to the base, tracing the faint lines of life and love. The touch is so light it should be harmless, right? But...
"You've got goosebumps," he says.
"So do you," I murmur.
I sink low into the mattress as Ben props himself over me—a wall of heat and muscle pressing me down.
His elbows land by my shoulders as he pins me with his eyes. "Emma, do you want me to kiss you?"
My heart slams so hard against my ribs, I swear it would kick him if he touched there.
Ben's palm slides to the back of my neck, a backup lock he doesn't need. When he looks at me like this, I go dumb—believe that our lips touching will make this messed-up world a better place.
