I slam back into my body and find Fawnie looking at me. Not with sexy, sparkling, desire, but with real concern.
God, I can’t go five fucking seconds without wrecking something.
“Hey.” She flips around and crawls to the end of the bed until she scoots around and sits on the edge. She leans forward and sets her hand on my knee. “Finn? Are you okay? Is this too much?”
Yes. You consume me. You’re going to wreck me. I’d let you do it happily.
It’s the heaviness of that hope that I can’t properly deal with. This doesn’t just feel unlikely. I know that it’s nearlyimpossible.
“Come here.” Fawnie guides me out of the chair. I stand up, helping her, going to her and stepping into her arms.
I might stand rigid, but I’m not running either. I let her drape herself around me, hugging me tightly. I let her move us to the bed and then I let her plop down and pull me against her. I don’t just sit. I curl up on the bed my head in her lap and let her stroke my hair. I close my eyes and let her do the exact thing I don’t want.
Entangle me with her.
“When was the last time you had a good sleep?” Her fingers don’t stop. It’s delicious.
It makes me want to curl up inside of her, to get under the covers of this bed with her and never get back out. It makes me want to unravel that invitation that’s in that question and stay the night with her, cuddled up beside her, holding her and being held.
That’s dangerous.
That’s so far beyond just sex.
Even sex is so far beyond sex with Fawnie.
She moves before I can answer, sliding out from underneath of me. I try to lift my head, but as soon as I do, she glides a pillow underneath my cheek. It’s soft. Plush. It feels nice. I’m fully clothed, curled into a fetal position on her bed when she was trying to do something sexy for me, and I’m so exhausted. I’m sotired.
The bed dips, but barely, as Fawnie curls up behind me and rests her hand on my hip.
“You can sleep here. Stay as long as you want.”
I hear everything she doesn’t say.I’ll protect you. I’ll stay with you. You’re not alone. You’re not worthless. You’re not a burden, and you’re not bringing trouble into my life. I want you here. I want you. Period.
I need to open my eyes, get up, and leave. Not hurt Fawnie, but go home. Maintain a proper, safe amount of distance. Do one thing that makes sense. If I’m there, at least I’m not here, not falling asleep. Not falling at all.
I don’t open my eyes. I don’t get up.
I don’t go anywhere.
Chapter 17
Fawnie
After Shadow fell asleep, I got up to get some water. I checked on Bubby and found her sleeping happily in her little wool cave bed on the couch. I left the door open so the hall light could filter into the room, in case Shadow woke up and had no idea where he was. I undressed, put on a t-shirt and cotton pajama bottoms and crawled under the blankets. Shadow was on top of them, still curled on his side, sleeping soundly. I thought maybe it would be less intrusive to him if I kept a thin barrier of blankets between us. Ridiculous in a way, considering what we did last night. But I get the impression with him that intimacy scares him. Not in the way some men give you all the bullshit about not wanting to be tied down. In Shadow’s case, it’s like he’s afraid to open up. So I want to respect his boundaries until he’s ready to let me in.
I wake with a start, blinking into the early morning sunlight spilling into the room. I immediately run the events of yesterday and last night over in my mind when I find Shadow sitting with his back pressed up against the headboard. Bubby is on the end of the bed. She’s stretched out, sleeping happily on her side, with one paw touching the tip of Shadow’s foot.
He fell asleep with his boots on. With his jacket on.
He’s in a t-shirt, jeans, and gray socks.
I’m instantly awake. My heart trips over itself. He didn’t leave. He shed his clothing and boots because he was eitheruncomfortable or too hot, but he didn’t just walk right out of here.
“Shadow?” I prop myself up on my elbow, staring up at him with blatant concern. I take in his tight jaw, tense shoulders, the fact that he’s so rigid. His eyes are so vacant, but they’reshiny. He seems so brittle that he’s about to break. “Are you sick?”
I get out of the blankets and sit cross-legged facing him. My hand shoots out before I can stop myself. His forehead is a little bit clammy, but cool. He’s not fevered.
His eyes shift to my face, and it’s the way he slow blinks like he can’t believe he’s really here, or that I could look at him like I truly care, becauseIdo, that makes me swing a leg over both of his. I kneel over him, keeping all of my weight to myself. I run my hand through his hair and bring it around to cup his jaw.
