Sloane moves in beside me. “You did the right thing.”
“I hope so.”
“This is good for him.” Her arm slips around my back. “Rue is good for him.”
My gaze drops to where her fingers rest against me before lifting back to my son. “Maybe.”
But I’m not so sure.
CHAPTER FORTY
KIRILL
By the timewe get to bed, she’s quiet. I notice it the moment she steps into the room. A pale pink slip drapes over her, barely hiding the gorgeous curves beneath it, and I forget what I was thinking about entirely.
She gives me a shy smile before pulling back the covers and sliding in beside me almost cautiously, leaving a small space between us.
I roll onto my side and reach for her, guiding her face toward mine. “Are you okay? Are you nervous to be here with me?”
Her eyes flicker, and she gives a small nod. “A little bit.”
I tug her closer, my arm draping around her waist and drawing her against my chest.
“Don’t be.” I drop a kiss to her forehead. “I don’t expect anything.”
She lets out a soft little groan as she burrows into me, making my cock stir at the sound. As much as I want her, I don’t want her thinking this is why I moved her to my bedroom.
When I switch off the bedside lamp, she shifts, and her thigh rubs against my erection. I stifle a growl. This is going to be a very long night.
Minutes later, I’m lying awake staring into the dark while her body relaxes against mine. Her hand rests lightly over my chest, her breathing slowly evening out as she settles deeper into my arms.
This woman already feels like mine, even when I know I don’t deserve her. Having her here almost feels like an escape from the darkness. But I know better.
When I finally close my eyes, I sense it coming again. That familiar pull, like something dragging me down where I don’t want to go. It doesn’t matter that she’s here, warm in my arms. The darkness still finds me.
One second, I’m in the bed with her. The next, I’m back there. Trapped in that endless black space with no walls, no ceiling, no door to claw my way through.
The darkness is everywhere, my bare footsteps pounding as I try to find a way to escape it.
At first, I hear nothing but myself…
Until the sound comes like always, closing in around my throat. A baby cries somewhere in the distance, the panicked sound growing closer with every passing second. My body reacts before my mind can form a single thought.
I run, knowing I need to get to him before…before it’s too late.
But it’s always too late.
My hands claw through empty air, blind in the dark, searching for a wall, a door, any edge to this place. But there’s nothing. Only the baby’s desperate cries growing sharper while time slips away from him.
“I’m here,” I call, but my words vanish, swallowed by the darkness the second they leave my mouth.
The crying spikes, as if he heard me, begging me to hurry. Terror floods through me. I can hear him so clearly now and still I can’t find him, can’t touch him, can’t even tell which direction to run.
I run harder. The air is freezing and thick at the same time while my lungs burn, sweat coating my brow. Then, out of nowhere, the dark splits and I stumble forward, the night air so cold it bites, my feet hitting grass instead of emptiness.
The crying only grows closer. So close it hurts.
When I glance around, I realize I’ve been here. I know this yard. I know that faint porch light on the right, recognize the swing set off to the side that creaks like it remembers me too.
