LIAM
Iturn the key quietly in the door, not wanting to wake Ana. Her room is some distance on the other side of the penthouse, but still, I don’t want to disturb her. I step quietly inside, the darkness of the apartment closing around me, and I’m about to turn to go to my own bedroom when I hear a soft sound coming from the direction of Ana’s room.
I pause, freezing in place, and then I hear it again, the soft whimper of someone crying.
Ana.
My heart twists in my chest. I hesitate, not entirely sure what I should do. I don’t know if she’ll want me to know she’s crying, if I’m who she’ll want to comfort her. But the idea of going to my own room, leaving her to cry herself to sleep in the dark alone, feels unthinkable.
Slowly, I pad through the living room and down the short hall to Ana’s door, pausing outside of it. I can hear the sound more clearly now, small restless whimpers that sound like she’s having a nightmare. I can hear her shifting in the bed, and my hand goes to the doorknob without thinking, the pull to go in and comfort her too strong to resist.
I know it’s a bad idea. I know what could come of it. But no part of me can turn away now and go back to my own room.
The room is dimly lit from the city view beyond her window; Ana had closed the gauzy inner blinds but not the heavy outer ones. I can see her curled in on herself on one side of the big bed, her blonde hair in her face and her hands clutching the pillow, her face screwed tightly up in an expression of fear or misery as she gasps out another whimpering sob. It’s clear that she’s still asleep, having some sort of nightmare, and it’s anyone’s guess who it could be that’s tormenting her even in her sleep. Franco, Alexei, Alexandre, Yvette—maybe someone else she hasn’t mentioned yet.
I cross the room towards her bed, and I can’t stop myself from sinking down onto the edge of it, feeling the heat of her small body radiating out from beneath the covers as she lets out another small cry.
Gently, I touch her shoulder. “Ana,” I whisper her name, my palm resting against the curve as I resist the urge to touch her face. “Ana, wake up. You’re having a nightmare, love, Ana—”
She whimpers again, gasping, caught too tightly in the dream to be let go that easily. I let my hand slide forward, my knuckles brushing over her cheekbone, my thumb so close to her lips that it would be easy to press it against them, to feel how soft they are.
“Ana, love. Wake up. You’re having a nightmare, it’s not real—”
She gasps, my touch on her face jolting her out of it. She scrambles backward against the pillows as she shoves herself up to a sitting position, tears streaming down her face as her eyes go momentarily wide and sightless, seeing someone or something other than me in front of her.
Ana makes a sound that’s almost a scream, strangled in her throat as she throws up her hands to ward me off, and I catch them in mine. “Ana, it’s me. Liam. I’m not going to hurt you. You’re having a nightmare.”
She blinks, tears still spilling down her cheeks as she slowly regains some awareness of where she is and who I am. “L-Liam?” She swallows hard, her voice choked. “I was—I was—he—”
“Shh. You don’t have to talk about it now. It was just a dream.” I know it’s not that simple, that whatever she’d dreamed had once beenreal, but all I can think of right now is calming her down, soothing her so that I can take that terrified look out of her eyes. I slide further onto the bed, moving so that I’m leaning against the stack of pillows on the other side of her, and I reach for her, pulling her into my arms.
Ana stiffens for a moment, as if she’s going to try to pull away, but then I feel the resistance leave her. She collapses forward onto my chest, her face pressed against my shoulder as she curls against me, and I feel her starting to cry again. Her shoulders are shaking as her hands reach for the front of my button-down shirt, clutching it as she cries harder.
She’s getting tears and snot all over my shirt, but I couldn’t fucking care less. Feeling her in my arms, letting me comfort her, is everything I’d hoped for when I’d come down that hallway to see what was going on. I don’t want her to be unhappy, of course, but I’d hold her forever if that’s what it took to give her that.
At that moment, I feel as if I’d do anything in the world if it meant Ana being happy. I’d go anywhere, do anything, give anything up.
All that matters is her.
We sit like that for a long time. Ana curled up in my arms, my hands stroking her hair, the back of her neck, down her back to soothe her. “It’s alright,” I murmur over and over. “Whatever happened, it’s over now. You’re safe, Ana. You’re safe here with me.”
“You promise?” She pulls back at last, and I can see how red and swollen her eyes are from crying even in the dim light. “I’m safe here? You won’t let—”
She breaks off, and I wonder what she was about to say. It could have been any number of things—that I won’t let her be taken away again, or hurt, or let Alexandre have her. I want it to be the last, of course—I want more than anything for her to see him the way I do, for her to never want to go back to him even in the smallest, most secret parts of herself.
“You’re safe.” I reach up, smoothing her fine blonde hair away from her face, my thumb tracing the sharp angle of her cheekbone as I do. “I would never let anyone hurt you, Ana, I swear. I’ll never let anyone touch you again.”
She blinks at me, the light from outside glowing silver against her skin, her blue eyes shining in her flushed face. “What about you?” she whispers, and I stare at her for a moment, uncomprehending.
“What do you mean?”
A tiny smile tilts the edges of her lips outwards, and I feel her hands in my shirt relax, her palms suddenly pressed against my chest instead of clutching the fabric. “Will you touch me?”
The question takes me aback. Iwantto touch her, of course, there’s no fucking thing in the world that I want more than that. Even now, just the question, whispered in her small sweet voice, has my cock twitching, stiffening just from the thought of it, from my fingers brushing against the softness of her cheek.
“I’m touching you now,” I murmur hoarsely, my voice thickening with desire. I’m suddenly very aware of where we are, in her bed, of what she’s wearing—just a thin camisole, and I’m not sure what else.
Ana tilts her chin up, her eyes meeting mine, and her hands curl into my shirt again as she squirms forward, nearly in my lap. Her lips are only a breath away, and I can feel my pulse speeding up, my heart beating wildly as the world narrows down to just the two of us.