“Chloe?”he said without looking up.
“Yeah?”
“You did good tonight.”A pause.“Better than you think.”
The compliment caught her by surprise and felt almost too heavy.
She swallowed.“You, uh, did pretty good too.”
His amused eyes lifted to hers as if he knew exactly how hard she was fighting not to turn into a puddle on her own hardwood floor.
“Go on,” he said.“Get ready for bed.”
The way he saidbeddid not help her in any way whatsoever.
She fled before she did something stupid.Like stare.Or melt.Or ask what he thought he was doing to her sanity.Or, heaven help her, invite him to climb in next to her.
Behind her, Kayne chuckled again.
And despite her exhaustion, despite the fear, the texts, the danger, her cheeks warmed and her lips twitched.
Because somehow, maddeningly, she felt safe.
Chapter Nine
Kayne was unreasonablylarge.That was the problem.He’d laid out a folded comforter on the floor beside her bed, using one of her throw blankets as a pillow because he refused the real one “on principle.”Chloe wasn’t sure if that principle was chivalry, machismo, or a pathological need to suffer, but he’d kicked off his boots, stretched out on his back, and somehow managed to take up nearly all the available floor space.
He looked like a very handsome, very dangerous giant who’d claimed his territory.
She climbed into her bed and lay stiff as a board on the edge, trying to pretend there wasn’t a warm, broad, unfairly magnetic former SEAL within arm’s reach.
It was very hard to ignore.Impossible, actually.
The room felt warmer.Apparently, the air had gotten the memo that Kayne was in it and decided to tighten the ambiance.
Despite her attempts to forget, her mind replayed both near-accidents on loop until her heart raced all over again.She exhaled slowly, trying to force her pulse back to something normal.Kayne must’ve sensed the shift, because he spoke into the dark.
