Becs felt tears threaten. It was what she’d fantasized he might one day say to her. She wanted nothing more than to curl up against him and sleep peacefully for once. She didn’t do much of that. Not alone. Every night, she would lie in bed, listening for sounds that someone might be lurking outside. She’d heard them a few times, and once, she’d sworn she had seen someone’s shadow in the backyard. She’d spent a good majority of that night sitting up, staring at the door, waiting for someone to break in. When the dawn finally came, she felt stupid for worrying so much and chalked it up to her mind playing tricks on her because she didn’t like being alone. That was all it was.
“Becs?”
“Hmm?”
“Come here.” Evan scooted closer.
With a sigh, she turned toward him when he rolled onto his back. She pressed her ear to his chest and draped her arm across him, ignoring the tingling in her body as she felt the surprising hardness of his body.
His arm curled around her, his thumb brushing softly against her shoulder.
Becs finally gave in to sleep, lulled into a peaceful sense of security because she wasn’t alone.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Thursday, September 15, 2022
Two days until the wedding…
Atticus came awake slowly, the sound ofsomeone breathing kicking his gray matter into gear, causing all his senses to come online at once.
He could sense behind his closed eyelids that the room was still dark. Meaning it wasn’t daylight yet. Probably early. Five? Six, maybe? He didn’t know.
He was warm, but it wasn’t the blankets covering him that raised his body temperature. No, the credit for that went to the man who was spooning behind him, one big, muscular arm draped over Atticus’s side, his hand pressed protectively on Atticus’s chest.
Someone’s foot was rubbing gently against his, but the angle was all wrong for it to be whoever was behind him.
With his eyes still closed, he tried to figure out where he was. More importantly, he tried to recall what had happened last night.
Moonshiners.
Brantley and Reese’s bachelor party.
Drunk Slade.
Bitchy ex-bitch.
Home.
Slade’s bed.
Slade and Carson.
Sleep.
Well, that answered all the questions he had at the moment.
Now, he was curious how he’d ended up inthisposition. Who was the hot, hard man behind him? Who was in front of him? Without opening his eyes, he was a little disoriented, but if he recalled correctly, Slade was behind him, Carson in front. Were they still like that?
It became a game. He listened to the deep, even breaths and tried to guess who it was. He was going with Slade. It was deductive reasoning since Atticus knew the man liked to cuddle. And yes, all his reasoning was based on that one night he’d spent with him.
Which meant Carson was in front of him, and that was likely his foot. He was touching him without being obvious.
Slade, not so much. Then again, he was a very tactile person. He liked to touch and be touched.
Carson was very visual. Hence his voyeurism fetish.
With his eyes still closed, Atticus tried to determine where he fell on the spectrum of the senses. He definitely enjoyed touch. He figured that had to do with the fact he hadn’t been touched much in his life. He lacked hugs and affection because most people simply dealt with him. They didn’t actually take the time to know him, much less care for him.
