“Allora.” I speak louder and more firmly now. “Wake up. It’s just a dream. I’m right here.”
Her eyes pop open but I can tell she’s still half-asleep.
“It’s me,” I repeat quietly. “Landon. You’re safe. It was just a bad dream.”
“Wha—” She blinks a few times and then sits up. “Where…oh, shit.” She looks around and then closes her eyes. “I’m sorry. Did I…wake you?”
“No, I was awake,” I say gently. “I heard you cry out.”
“That’s the first time I had a nightmare about…” She chews her lip. “You know.”
“The assault.” I say it quietly but firmly. She won’t get over this by us dancing around the issues.
“Yes.” She shudders a little. “It wassoreal.”
“But it’s not. You’re here and no one will touch you again as long as I’m still breathing.”
Her eyes find mine in the semi-darkness, and I’m not sure what I see there. Curiosity. Gratitude. And something else that’s more complex. Then, before I realize what she’s doing, she throws her arms around me, holding on tight.
I hesitate for a beat because I don’t want to take advantage of her when she’s as vulnerable as she is now, but I also can’t seem to resist her. She feels so good pressed against me, my armsclose around her of their own volition. Her slender body fits perfectly against mine and I try not to focus on the soft breasts pressing into my chest. Or the scent of coconut coming from her hair. Or the way she clings to me like I’m her lifeline.
I don’t like playing the hero. I do what I do because it’s the right thing to do but this is different. When I went on military missions, there were no names and rarely any faces. It was just a matter of completing each mission.
It wasn’t personal.
It didn’t feel like it does having Allora in my arms.
The slight stirring of my cock.
The urge to run my fingers through her hair, to tilt up her face and stare down into her beautiful blue eyes.
But that would be a shitty thing to do.
She’s scared and vulnerable and I’m supposed to be protecting her, not thinking about how to get in her pants.
Except she’s snuggled against me like she never intends to move, and I don’t have the heart to push her away.
So, I just stroke her back and continue to hold her for what seems like an eternity.
“Landon?” She speaks quietly, voice somewhere muffled against my chest.
“Yes?”
“Is it okay for me to sit here like this for a little longer?”
My body wants me to say yes but my brain is screaming no.
Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, depending upon your perspective, my mouth is more in tune to my body than my brain.
“Of course.”
“I feel safe with you.”
“I’m glad.”
Slowly, she lifts her head and looks up at me…expectantly.
Christ, what is she doing? I know that look, have seen it hundreds of times with lots of different women.
