He chuckles deeply at my indignant squawk but doesn’t comment. I appreciate his restraint. His chest feels like a furnace at my back, the warmth lulling me even as the hand resting lightly on my hip sends a shiver of awareness through me.
“You grip my hand any tighter, kitten, and my fingers will fall off.” His breath teases the hair at my temple, tickling me.
I glance down to see my hand is, in fact, completely wrapped around his. I clear my throat and croak out, “Safety precaution.”
“Of course.” I don’t even have to see his face to know he’s smirking.
He slides our joined hands slowly from my hip to my abdomen until they’re nestled between my breasts. His thick fingers spreading mine and weaving between them until we’re completely locked together.
“There you go, kitten,” he says softly. “Safe.”
Moments pass in silence between us. Nothing in the world existing but our bodies twined together in his bed. Then his thumb flexes to stroke the side of my breast.
“Your heart’s racing so fast,” he says.
“Impossible for it not to when you’re touching me.”
There’s a long pause, his thumb stilling where it presses into the soft tissue. Lower, my belly feels as if an explosion of butterflies is catapulting around inside me. Need ripples through me, his soft touches igniting an urge for more.
“Should I stop?” he asks.
Logic screams to slow down things between us. I’m no blushing virgin, but I’m also not the type for casual hookups. We only just met, no matter how dramatic the events that precipitated my being in his room. That fact keeps screaming in my brain. At the same time?—
“No!” The word bursts from me, my mouth overriding logic and common sense.
“Good.” I feel his smile against my shoulder, his approval another warm blanket over me.
His arm tightens around me, that infernal thumb resuming its slow stroke back and forth against the sensitive skin of my breast. I tilt my head enough to look over my shoulder at him. His eyes are half-lidded, amused, but I see something else there, too. Something darker. Possessive.
“You’re enjoying this,” I accuse.
“Of course, I am. Since I looked across Malachi’s room and saw you for the first time, my plan has been to get you into my bed and keep you here. Whatever you heard that brought you to my door is something I’m grateful for, even if it’s a problem for my brothers and me to resolve. You’re meant to be mine, Tegan. I felt the certainty of it clear to my bones the moment we met.”
His speech is the most words he’s strung together so far, though I know he’s obviously capable of taking charge and commanding a room. He’s got to be to run an emergency room the way he does. Still, in the time I’ve been with him, he hasn’t said much. Which makes it so much more powerful when he does talk. The only light in the room comes from the screen of his cellphone lighting up with messages that illuminate the edge of his smile.
“Hyram and Silas are patrolling the property for the rest of the night. Close your eyes, sweet girl. You’re going to need your rest for tomorrow,” he commands, and obediently, my eyelids become heavy weights dragging themselves lower over my eyes.
“Why…need…tomorrow?” I sleepily mumble. Now that I’m here, in his bed with his warmth and security wrapped around me, the fear and anxiety bleeding out of me overcomes the arousal from his touch. His rumbly laugh follows me into sleep.
“You’ll see, kitten. You’ll see.”
Chapter
Eleven
Charm
My internal clock, that’s never reset no matter how many years I get from those early boot camp mornings, rouses me, but the warm puffs of breath over my pec ensures I don’t slip back into the delicious dream I’d been having of soft skin and unconsciously sexy courage.
For a second, my brain tries to place it—why is my arm heavy? Why are the sheets twisted? Why is something warm tucked against my chest? Then I remember. Tegan is here. In my bed. Tucked up against me, fast asleep once her body recognized the safety I promised was real.
My eyes open, and there she is, half buried in my pillow, hair a complete mess fanned out behind her. One of her legs is thrown over mine as if she claimed the space sometime in the night and decided she’s keeping it. She can. Keep the space, keep my leg, keep whatever of me she’s willing to.
I stay still, mostly because I don’t want to wake her. Partly, because if she moves away, this wonderful soft moment ends, and I don’t want it to. I can’t even recall the last time I woke in bed with another person. At least, not a battle buddy in themidst of a mission or Malachi during his recovery when night terrors nearly robbed him of his sanity.
I press my chin to my chest in order to catch a glimpse of her sweetly sleeping face. It’s relaxed in sleep, long, dark lashes against her cheeks, mouth slightly parted. Like this, she looks every bit as young as I know she is. Too young for me, undoubtably, but I don’t give a damn. I’ve waited my whole life to feel like this.
I brush a strand of hair from her face, and she stirs. A small sound escapes her throat, and suddenly, her leg tightens around mine as if she’s anchoring herself. Her hand slides across my chest, fingernails scratching lightly and leaving goosebumps in their wake.
