“That’s exactly what a bodyguard does.”
“Then consider yourself relieved of your job.”
“Doesn’t work like that. Why did you stop?”
“Excuse me?”
“Why did you stop yourself from coming?”
This conversation can’t be happening. I snort into the darkness at his idea that I stopped myself. Why would I even do that? “I didn’t. Just leave it be, Fox.”
“How long has it been?”
“Since what? Sex? Six months.”
“Since you came.” His voice is closer. I drop my hands to find him hovering over me.
“Longer.”
He drags in a breath. “You need to get out of your own head.”
“No, I need you to get out of my bedroom.”
My hand snaps out, ready to smack him, but he catches my wrist and then gathers my other one before pinning them over my head. My heart trips over itself, and my breathing becomes erratic as he looms over me. His grip on my hand is firm but not painful. The panic I expect to feel at being pinned down isn’t rising, but something else is.
“Talk to me,” he demands.
“No.”
“What were you dreaming about?”
“Bunny rabbits.”
He grins. “Interesting lie. Tell me the truth. Was it about me? I’m good at analyzing dreams.”
“No, not about you.” Although it could be. Oh wow, now that’s in my head.
His gaze narrows. “Who, then?”
I jerk my arms, trying to pull free, but it’s useless. “Fucking hell, get out. You aren’t my therapist.”
“No, but you clearly need one.”
I inch the blanket down, using my legs. “Great deduction. I’ll just pop my real name into the system and hope shit doesn’t catch up to me.” My leg swings up, aiming for a knee to his head. Might knock some sense into him. He dodges the blow with a chuckle before hooking his leg over my thighs. This is so close to my dream, and the throb comes back with reinforcements.Fuck.
“I am trained.”
My jaw drops. “In what?”
“Specifically? PTSD.”
I snort. “And sitting in the corner of the room in the middle of the night is, what? Exposure therapy?”
“That’s something we can try.”
I huff. “You’re impossible.”
“Andyou are frustrated, but also turned on right now.”
