“Eek,” I shrieked, jerking awake when a loud thunderclap shook the walls of the house. Mark’s arms were around me, and he squeezed, but I wiggled out of his grasp and jumped up, turning on the living room lights. I jogged into the kitchen and the dining room, doing the same, then sat back on the couch and pulled the blanket back over me.
“You okay?” Mark wrapped his arm back around me and pulled me close. I let him haul me toward him until I was practically on his lap. My hands were shaking as I looked out the living room windows to see rain falling hard.
“Thunderstorms,” I said to his chest, breathing in the scent of his soap. He pulled my legs on his lap and kept his hand there. His touch was soothing, calming, and I reminded myself it was just rain, just a storm.
Lightning flashed, and I braced myself for another booming clap. I tried to prepare, tried to breathe, but when it hit, I jumped and buried my face in Mark’s chest, fisting his shirt. When I opened my eyes and looked at him through my lashes, he furrowed his brows and pursed his lips. I tried to move my legs, but he kept a firm hold of them.
“Tell me what’s going on, Jenna.”
“It’s so stupid,” I said with a quiet voice, focusing on the words on his T-shirt.
“No, it’s not.”
That was all he said. Then he waited. He didn’t judge. He sat quietly and held me, rubbing his hand up my thigh.
He overwhelmed me.But in a good way, a safe way. I laid my head on his chest and wrapped one hand around his waist, taking comfort in the way my body molded to his.
“When I was five, there was a severe thunderstorm. My parents were at a neighbor’s house, and I was with a babysitter. The power went out, and it really freaked her out. She left to go get them, not realizing I’d woken up. I ran from room to room, yelling, but there was only silence. It terrified me. I don’t remember much after that, but my dad said they found me in a laundry basket in the garage an hour later.”
“Oh, Jenna,” he said, stopping his movements on my leg to give it a gentle squeeze.
I wanted to look up, wanted to see his face, but knew if I did, my resolve would crumble. I would climb the rest of the way on his lap and lick his lips like they were made of raspberry sorbet. Even though I was so frustrated, I could barely see straight. I was more worried I’d only see sympathy gazing back at me. I didn’t want sympathy. I wanted fireworks.
“Nighttime thunderstorms freak-me-the-hell-out. I have to keep the lights on.”
He stayed silent.
“Okay, I’m going to empty the dishwasher, then start some laundry,” I said, looking around the room. I couldn’t look at him. I was too afraid of what I’d see.
Mark grabbed my hand to keep me from moving and tilted my head to look at him. He ran his fingers down my face, and I closed my eyes, leaning in, but he squeezed my leg harder this time.
“Look at me, Jenna.”
I did.
He shifted his hips, keeping a steady hand on my thigh, and leaned closer, brushing his lips against my forehead. His beard was scratchy, but I liked how it felt on my skin. I liked the way he could cocoon me in his warmth. Another roll of thunder rumbled outside, and Mark squeezed me harder, bringing me closer.
In the short time I’d known him, I realized something—he made me feel like a different person, not a rambling bookworm with a weird personality, but a strong, capable woman.
He brushed his lips against one cheek, then the other, tracing his hand down my jaw and neck.
“I think the movie’s a lost cause.”
“What movie?” I answered, pressing my hand against his stomach.
“Where do you sleep when there’s a storm?”
“Normally right here, with all the lights on.”
“Can we try something different?”
“Different?”
“Yeah, sleep with me.”
I sat up and pushed my legs off his lap, sitting cross-legged beside him. I mean, I was up for anything that would help with my thunderstorm phobia, but I wasn’t going to fuck Mark because it was raining outside.
He must have seen something in my face because he removed the arm around me and scrubbed it down his beard.
