He steps out of his shoes. “Would you want to come? You can. There will be opportunities for press, too, if we wanted. Get photos taken. Sell our… illusion.”
“Why not?” I ask. The idea of being alone here should appeal to me. But it doesn’t, not when it’ll just be me and my thoughts. “We’ve pretended to be deeply in love in Monaco, Italy and New York so far. What’s another country?”
CHAPTER 46
PAIGE
Something wakes me up.
But it’s still dark, and my head feels thick. The comforter smells familiar. I close my eyes again. It was probably nothing. Sleep beckons, and I’m eager to follow.
A sound cuts through the air. I turn over in bed, toward the warm arm brushing near mine. It sounded like a groan.
Rafe. I’m sharing his bed.
We ended up here again, after working late into the night. I fell asleep almost the second my head hit the pillow. He was lying beside me, reading one of his worn paperbacks.
There’s another sound. Half muffled by the pillow and far too loud. I blink my eyes open.
It’s coming from him. The groan shifts into a yell so loud that I burst up into sitting.
“Rafe?” I ask. There’s movement beside me, and the arm is pulled back. The covers are bunched and it’s too dark, I can barely make him out. “Rafe?”
I prod his shoulder. He doesn’t move, and his skin is hot to the touch.
I’ve never seen anyone have a nightmare like this.
He turns his head on the pillow, and another hoarse groanescapes him. It turns into a yell so loud I push against him. “Rafe, wake up. It’s just a bad dream. Rafe…”
I scramble to find the light switch. With the beside lamp on, I can see him shifting in bed. His hair looks damp and the t-shirt he’s wearing is bunched up. I can see the edge of that scar again.
He groans again. It’s an agonized sound, like someone is hurting him. Is it good to wake someone up when they’re having a nightmare? It has to be. I have to dosomething.So I grip both of his shoulders and shake him.
He groans again. Beneath his eyelids, his eyes roam.
I smooth a hand over his cheek. It’s hot and rough with stubble. “Rafe, you’re dreaming.Rafe.Wake up.”
He grows still.
His eyes open and look directly into mine with a narrowed, deadly intensity that makes me think this was a bad idea.
All I hear is both of our heavy breathing.
“Paige,” he finally says. His voice is hoarse, and there’s still that tense rigidity to him. Like he could shatter with a single blow.
My thumb brushes over the warm skin of his neck. His skin is scorching and his pulse quick beneath it. “You were having a nightmare,” I whisper.
“It’s fine,” he says. The thick, dark hair looks damp against his forehead, and his chest is rising fast. “There’s no need to wake me up because of it.”
Should I have listened to his pain, his obvious distress, and left him trapped in it? I sit back on my heels and let my hand fall from him. “It’s just… you made sounds.”
As soon as I’m no longer above him, he turns to the edge of the bed and sits up. Like he wants to get away. His back is rigid when he runs a hand over his face.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters.
“Are you… okay?” I ask.
He’s taking deep, quiet breaths. Like he’s pulling himself together and locking it all down tight.
