And without asking, he bends and scoops me up into his arms.
I don’t protest. My body feels heavy suddenly, like the fight drained out of it all at once, and I melt into him. He carries me to the bed and lowers me onto the mattress. And I curl instinctively onto my side, facing the wall.
There’s a small pause behind me.
Then the mattress dips.
His chest settles against my back, and he slides his arm around my waist. It’s not tight or restraining; it’s tender. It’s solid. And his warm palm rests against my stomach.
“I’ve got you, Blair,” he whispers.
Thunder rattles against the window, and the rain pelts the roof.
And Kane just holds me.
He doesn’t press closer than necessary. He doesn’t let his hands roam over my body. He just…holds me, in a way no one has ever held me before.
And the worst, most confusing part is how quickly my body responds.
My hands stop shaking. Tears stop streaming from my eyes. And the tightness in my chest loosens inch by inch.
I’ve been in houses with marble floors and ten-foot ceilings and security systems that could lock down an entire wing in seconds, but I have never felt as safe as I do right now, inside a wooden cabin wearing borrowed clothes.
I don’t understand it.
I don’t understand him.
But with Kane behind me and his arms cuddling my body to his chest, one truth slips past all the noise in my head before I fall asleep.
Whatever this is between us isn’t stemming from weakness or manipulation or panic. It’s something deeper. It’s something I can’t deny, no matter how hard I try.
Kane
Blair isn’t exactly running straight into my arms, but after last night, things feel a little less loaded today than they did yesterday. She came downstairs this morning freshly showered and smelling like the vanilla-scented body lotion I picked up for her the other day. She ate breakfast and didn’t complain about the coffee tasting like “ass.”
She even helped Kylie with the dishes.
All in all, she’s finding her way here.
And trust me, I know what a feat that is for her. Blair might be spoiled and difficult and stubborn, but beneath the snobby exterior lies a woman who has had her entire world flipped upside down. She’s soft and fragile and vulnerable, and I savor every single one of the moments she’s let her guard down enough to just let me hold her.
Because, fuck, that’s all I want to do.
It’s nearing three in the afternoon, and she stands just inside the tree line surrounding the cabin.
Even while she’s dressed in my flannel and sweatpants, she doesn’t look like a woman who belongs in a place like this.
But she’s trying. I know she’s trying.
I can feel the sincerity through her intentions.
Though, she’s also confused and still fighting against our bond. I can feel that too. It’s like an incoming thunderstorm brewing, and you’re not sure whether it’s going to dump buckets of rain and lightning or pass over you without a drop of precipitation.
I walk across the lot in front of the cabin and head in her direction. She turns abruptly when she hears my boots crunch over gravel.
“You doing okay?”
At first, she says, “Yes,” but that’s quickly followed up by, “Actually, no.”
