The room came into focus and she let herself take it all in so that she could reassure herself she was home and safe.
She was sitting on the floor next to her dresser, her gaze taking in the scratch down the side from where she and her dad had almost dropped it carrying it upstairs when she’d moved into the apartment. They fumbled it because they’d been laughing too hard, thanks to Lark standing at the top of the stairs shouting, “Pivot! Pivot!” in true Ross from Friends style.
She felt her navy-blue curtains brushing against her shoulder. The color had always been her favorite, despite her baby sister Piper’s assertions that blue was a boy’s color.
Then she forced her eyes toward the light, letting it land on the lamp first, simply because she wasn’t brave enough to face the man in the bed yet.
She’d been an idiot to invite Grayson to stay, and then she had compounded that mistake by forgetting to turn on her nightlight. The dark always triggered the nightmares, which was why she was militant about turning that damn light on.
In her defense, it had been hard to think, considering her brain was swimming in a sea of oxytocin, dopamine, endorphins, and all the other happy hormones following that orgasm.
“Look at me, little bird,” Grayson said so gently, tears formed, wetting her lashes.
Wren tried to blink them away, turning her head in hopes he wouldn’t see them.
“Wren,” he said again, his tone deeper this time. “Look at me.”
She responded instantly, unable to refuse him when he issued one of those commands. The man had hypnotized her. She wasn’t sure when or how, but she was totally under his spell.
Hence the reason she’d made the mother of all fuckups by inviting him to sleep over.
He was sitting upright on the side of the bed she’d just exited with all the grace of a newborn foal. He was shirtless, wearing only his boxer briefs, concern etched across every line of his face.
His hands clenched the mattress by his thick thighs, and she got the sense that grip was keeping him from crossing the room to go to her. Like he needed it to hold himself back.
Thank God he was. Because if he came any closer…
She took an uneasy breath and realized it had been his arm.
She hadn’t been trapped or pinned down. It was simply his arm around her waist, holding her as they slept.
“Who—” he started, but she couldn’t let him finish that question.
“Sorry,” she blurted. “I’m sorry.”
Grayson frowned, then started to rise.
She flinched before she could stop herself. The movement seemed to hit him like a physical blow. Grayson froze for a moment, then sank back down on the bed.
“Wren,” he said softly.
“Don’t ask me,” she said in a manic voice so loud, it was practically a yell. “Not…not yet.”
He paused, then nodded. Just once. “Tell me what you need.”
She shook her head, scrambling for something she could say to save this. “Nothing. I’m fine,” she said, aware she was a million miles away from fine. “I’m okay,” she said again, wishing her voice didn’t sound so damn frantic. “Honest.”
“You’re not okay,” he said.
“It was just a nightmare. I, um…” She glanced around, her eyes landing on the stupid nightlight she’d forgotten to turn on. Gesturing to it, she fought to give him what she hoped passed as a sheepish grin. “I’m afraid of the dark. Silly, I know. I forgot to turn on the nightlight before we went to sleep.”
She scrambled off the floor but her legs were unsteady, so she leaned heavily against the wall, her hand resting on the dresser for support.
Grayson studied her far too closely, rising slowly, like she was a wounded animal who might jolt if spooked.
“Little bird,” he said, slowly approaching her.
“I’m fine,” she said, a little too insistently.
