His skin is touching mine now, but it’s only one arm around my waist. Somehow we’ve managed to lock our hands together, and the heat of his front is plastered against my back.
And somehow, I don’t hate that he’s holding me like this. I feel protected, and deep down I know that this man, despite how we met, would rather hurt himself if there was ever another threat against me then make me suffer through something like what happened again.
His fingers flex in mine, telling me that he’s awake.
“I have morning breath,” he whispers, the heat from his words ghosting over the skin on my neck.
God, I didn’t realize just how close he was.
“But I still want to kiss you.”
I turn my face, smiling into my pillow before deciding to turn around and face him.
I choose to stop thinking, to stop overanalyzing.
I press my mouth to his in a sweet kiss. It’s a simple light brushing of our lips, but it still sends heat rushing down my spine.
I pull my face back, looking down at him.
“Your color is better this morning.”
“The healing powers of holding a gorgeous woman all night.” His eyes trace my face, settling on my lips for a long moment.
I inwardly wonder how many healing nights he’s had in his life, but I shove those thoughts down. I don’t want to think about anything else but this moment, this small segment of time where no one exists but the two of us.
His stare gets too intense for me, and I don’t know how to respond, so I do the only thing I can think of. I press against him, trying to move away, but his hold on me won’t allow it.
Instead of staying under the scrutiny of that gaze and the millions of questions floating around in my head, I press my face to his chest, the scent of his skin and the light tickle of his chest hair somehow calming the emotions raging inside of me.
“Do I want you because my head is messed up?”
“I don’t know,” he says, and I think the answer is perfect and honest.
He could’ve easily said no. I could spend hours trying to convince him that what I feel has nothing to do with being his captive. That my gratitude for not being hurt is the only reason I could possibly be in this bed with him right now.
I press my lips to his skin, immediately noticing the increased kick of his heart.
I feel completely insane right now because I no longer want to pull away. I can’t imagine putting distance between us. I want to tug my leggings out of the way, shove his sweats down, and take him inside of me. I want to watch his face as he comes because I know it will look better than I imagined it did yesterday. I want to see his face screwed up when I tell him to wait, to last just a little longer as I rotate my hips, seeking that very same release.
I can admit that I’ve never felt anything close to what I feel for him, and I don’t know how it’s even possible. It’s not love at first sight. There’s no way that’s a possibility because I thought for the longest time that he was an evil bastard who would either rape me or sell me to someone who planned to do the same before I was eventually considered useless and was murdered. I lived with that fear for days and days trapped in a cage in the dark basement in a house I didn’t even know the location of.
That’s why I feel insane, because as I lift my head to look into his eyes, none of that fear exists any longer.
I now know he’s not that monster. He never planned to hurt me in that way.
Being in his arms, resting on his chest when I know it has to cause him pain somehow feels right, like this was how it was always supposed to be, and that’s more difficult to wrap my head around than anything else.
I remember thinking that I would run from this man had I met him on the street. If I caught him watching me from across a room, I’d do my best to slip away without him noticing. Now, his dark eyes on me are all that I can seem to think about.
I crave that attention from him.
He doesn’t say a word as I look up at him, and I know he’s giving me the chance to steer this situation in whatever direction makes me feel comfortable.
But there’s no comfort to be found. My body is a live wire, urging me to do crazy things. My heart is pounding in my chest reminding me just how alive I am in this moment, and there’s only one thing missing. There isn’t an ounce of the fear I felt for so long where this man is concerned.