“Yeah.”
“And pray?”
He gave me a small grin. “Yeah. I’ll pray.”
I felt like I was being extra when I took his hand and led him to the bedroom I was using, but for once, I just decided to letmyself make it. Instead of fussing at myself, I reminded myself that everybody needed a little extra support every now and then. And Quentin was willing to be that support.
He leaned against the wall opposite the closet once I let his hand go.
“Let me get the stuff that I need for the shower,” I told him.
“Take your time, E. I ain’t got nowhere to be but here with you. It’s whatever you need.”
I smiled to myself as I moved around the walk-in closet. If I ever doubted that good men still existed, he was the living proof. I gathered a sleep shirt, panties, and a towel. Then I rejoined him in the actual bedroom. “Okay. I’m ready.”
He nodded and walked out of the room, with me hot on his heels. Outside the bathroom, he leaned against the wall right next to the doorframe. “I’ll be right here.”
“Praying,” I teased with a small smile.
“Waiting on you and praying, sweetheart.”
I hadn’t meant for my shower to take so long, but my hair smelled like barbecue smoke. So at the last minute, I decided that I needed to wash it. When my shower was over, I didn’t have the energy to thoroughly tackle my hair. Instead, I parted it down the middle and across the middle and put it in four braids. I probably looked about twelve years old, but it was the best I could do.
I stepped out of the bathroom and spotted Quentin right where I’d left him. He chuckled when he saw me. “Damn, you’re giving me flashbacks to when we were younger. Me and KDdoing wannabe bad boy shit, and you in your ponytails, playing with dolls.”
“Shut up,” I said, but I was grinning.
His smile slipped. “I’m worried about you, E. The way you froze out there. How you were out of it for so long. I’m worried about you having a nightmare or, worse, not falling asleep at all. I feel like I should make a pallet on the floor of your room and stay in there for the night . . . just in case you need me.”
“Yeah,” I said, because I was worried about me too. At one point, I’d been exhausted and felt ready to crash. But after the shower, I felt re-energized. “But why you gotta make a pallet? There’s a whole bed in here. Just get in the bed.”
He hesitated.
“Q.” His hesitation brought out my insecurity. Maybe I pushed too hard. Maybe I had no business asking him to lie in the bed with me.
“Your face fell,” he told me. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not about that. The bed in the guest bedroom is small as hell. Get what you need and come get in my bed.”
I exhaled in relief. “This bed is a?—”
“Full-sized bed. My bed is a king. Like I said, get what you need and come on. I’m jumpin’ in the shower.”
I was playing a dangerous game with Eastley’s pretty ass. Having her sleep in my bed was . . . stupid. There was no other way to call it. I had a hard time keeping my thoughts and feelings at bay when it came to Eastley. I needed to put more space between us, not less. Those were the thoughts going through my mind as I stroked my dick in the shower. I had to get the nut off. I couldn’t take the chance on my shit getting hard while we were in bed together. While there was definitely a part of me that wanted to pound her sweet, sexy ass into the mattress, there was also a part of me that just wanted to protect her. To be her safe space.
I washed the evidence of my orgasm down the drain, cleaned my body, then got out of the shower. I typically slept naked, but since I had an overnight guest, I threw on a pair of basketballshorts. I opened the bathroom door, stepped into the primary bedroom, and said a silent prayer.
Lord, help me.
Eastley lay on one side of my bed. Her sleep shirt wasn’t necessarily fitted but hugged her body close enough to let me know she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her head rested on a pillow she brought in from the guest room. Her hair was covered by a navy-blue bandana.
“No bonnet?” I teased, gesturing toward her hair.
She grinned. “Nah, they make me too hot.” She patted her covered head. “This is the best I can do.”
I climbed into bed and made myself as comfortable as possible. I didn’t want to get too close to her or make her feel awkward. So, I kept my distance without obviously keeping my distance.
“Other than the fireworks catastrophe, I feel like my first Braveheart Brotherhood outing in eight or so years went well.” She sighed. “I was so proud of myself. I felt good. Everything was flowing. My anxiety—I mean, I had some anxiety. I always have some measure of anxiety, but it was relatively low. I thought we would come back here, debrief about what went well, and what we could work on for next time . . .” She let her thoughts trail off.
I chuckled lightly. “Debrief.”
