"I know." I moved as far back against the couch as I could, and then Evie was sliding her body onto the couch next to me. Her icy limbs practically sizzled as they made contact with my skin, like ice in a hot pan. I pulled in a harsh breath through my teeth. "Christ, Evie. You're frozen."
"I told you," she shivered, wiggling against me like a cat preparing to pounce. "Ohh,you're so warm," she sighed.
I gritted my teeth and forced my arm to encircle her icy waist and my legs to cover her arctic ones. "My God, are you a lizard?"
"Maybe," she hummed in relief, snuggling her ass against me deliciously. I slid my arm under the pillow, and she lay on it, instantly comfortable like she'd always belonged there. "That's so nice."
"Perks of letting your bodyguard finger you," I grinned.
She turned and glared at me in the darkness. "I can leave."
"No, you can't." I tightened my arms and legs around her, trapping her.
She laughed at that, rotating back around and getting comfortable again. "Alright, call it what you want. I like it."
"Good." I kissed her hairline and then laid my head down. "Try to go back to sleep."
This was the part of fucking I secretly liked the best. Connecting with someone after, holding them close to me and sharing body heat. Some of my partners would stay up half the night talking, sharing their fears and secrets. Others fell asleep and found safety in companionship. Even my shortest one-night stands ended up cozy in some way.
Evie was silent for a few moments, and I thought for a second that she had actually fallen asleep. But then, quietly, she said, "You looked afraid when you woke up."
I lifted my head again, suddenly uncomfortable. "I was. A bit."
"What were you scared of?" she whispered.
I let my fingers trail up and down her arm absently as I thought about the best way to respond. "It wasn't one thing in particular," I said finally. "It was more like my body remembering something because what happened today was… not similar, but adjacent. Scary. Adrenaline-fueled."
She nodded like she understood. "I get that way about some things. What happened that gives your body that reaction? Wait, sorry, you don't have to tell me that," she amended quickly.
I squeezed her reassuringly. "Bodyguard to fuck buddy, I don't mind opening up a little."
"Oh, God," she groaned. "That's what I am, aren't I?"
"A very cute one," I grinned. Settling back down, I sighed. "I was in Afghanistan for two tours. They strapped an IED to one of our trucks, and it blew apart a wall of our medical facility."
"Oh my God," she whispered, clearly stricken. "That's horrifying. Benjamin, I had no idea you'd gone through something like that."
"I didn't realize I was wounded until I'd triaged a dozen guys." I rolled my shoulders, already tense. I didn'twantto be affected by the memory, but no matter what I told myself, my body reacted anyway. "It wasn't anything life-threatening." I lifted my left hand from the blankets and turned my hand in the moonlight until the silver glow reflected off the scars on my skin. "I couldn't operate for a while. They discharged me honorably, and I took the time to recover and start a surgical residency in Oregon."
She rolled over, shuffling our bodies until she faced me, and I felt her cold hand on my cheek. "No wonder you looked scared. I didn't know you were suffering from PTSD."
"'Suffering' is a bit hyperbolic," I replied dryly, clearing my throat. "It pops up from time to time."
"And I've put you in a situation where it can happen more often." Her thumb caressed my scratchy jaw, and I had to suppress a shiver of delight that carried down my arms. "I'm sorry."
"That's not your fault." I tightened my arms around her again, encouraging her to lie back down. "I'm a big boy. I can handle myself."
She resisted, inching upward instead until she was half sitting up and my face was against her chest. Her heartbeat filled my ears immediately, and she began to stroke my hair. "This is what my Nan did when I couldn't say I was scared." I froze. She was so warm and smelled like that maddening soap she made herself. And her fingers were tickling through my hair, smoothing away worries with sure strokes. "It's the quiet grief that needs physical assurance."
I melted against her, shifting us so she could lay on her side and cradle my head easier. "I'm really okay," I said gruffly.
"I know," she said lightly. Her fingers continued sifting through my hair, and my eyes fluttered closed. We stayed that way for a long time. She didn't talk, and neither did I. I could have slept, but I couldn't let myself fall into anything that would take me away from this.
I couldn't remember the last time someone had done this to me. My mother was a lovely woman—smart, competent, attentive. But she'd never been physically affectionate, and it had always just been us. Maybe that was why I loved being physically close to women. I really hadn't thought about it very hard. But as Evie stroked my hair and let her heartbeat fill my thoughts, each beat seemed to push back the tension a little more. Physical assurance, she called it.
She was a witch. There was no other explanation for how she affected me. The more she held me, the more little strands of myself, my true self, reached out and knotted themselves to her. Would it hurt when they broke away? Or would I simply carry this moment with me like a warm hug to cherish?
Eventually, I felt her nodding off, her hand slowing. I pulled her back down and tucked her under the blankets, oddly touched by her gift to me. "Thank you."
