“Prospects. Club boys. They’re here for you.”
For me.
The words land heavy.
“I can’t sleep,” I admit. My voice sounds small in the dark. “Every time I close my eyes, I’m back there.”
He turns fully toward me now.
The silence stretches.
“I was wondering,” I start, then swallow. “If you could… maybe… uhm.”
This is stupid.
“I’m not asking for anything,” I rush to clarify. “I just… I can’t sleep. I’m afraid.”
His jaw tightens.
I see it happen. The way his body goes rigid. The way he inhales slow through his nose like he’s trying to rein something in.
His voice is rough when he speaks. “You want me in the room.”
It’s not a question.
“Just to sleep,” I whisper. “That’s it.”
His eyes drop to my mouth for half a second, then back up. Something dark flickers there. Heat. Control.
“You don’t ask a man that lightly, Carly.”
My pulse jumps.
“I know,” I say. “I just… I trust you.”
That does something to him.
I see it in the way his shoulders shift. In the way his hands flex at his sides like he’s fighting himself.
He exhales once.
“Alright,” he says.
His jaw tightens, like he’s biting down on the rest of it.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for,” he adds, quieter now.
He walks past me toward the bedroom, and the air changes when he moves. Charged. Heavy.
I follow.
He stops beside the bed as if there’s a line drawn there. His hand drags over the back of his neck, a tell he probably doesn’t know he has.
“You sure?” he asks, voice rough. “Because once I’m in that bed, I’m not touching you unless you ask me to.”
Heat rushes to my face before I can stop it. A sudden blush that feels louder than the quiet room.
“I know,” I manage. “I’m not asking for that.”
