“Stop that,” he admonished.
“Stop what?” she asked weakly, feeling spent and shaky.
“Whatever is running through your head and making you look that distraught. It’s okay, Grace.”
“It’s not, I freaked out.”
“Which is perfectly fine. Maybe we rushed things a little too much.”
“No, I wanted this,” she assured him. “So much. I don’t know what happened.”
“You’ve been through so much and living with the threat of Emmanuel hanging over your head isn’t helping. How about I tuck you in and you get yourself some rest.”
Grace grabbed at him. She didn't want to be alone. “Stay, please.”
“I don’t want to freak you out again.”
“You won't. Just stay, please. Hold me, I … I need you to hold me tonight … please.”
“Oh, honey, you never ever have to ask me to be there for you. I would love to hold you tonight.”
Matthew moved them both so they were lying down, him on his back, her on her side, tucked against him, her cheek pillowed on his chest. His arm wrapped around her, holding her snug at his side, and he covered them both with the blankets.
“Night, Matthew,” she said, suddenly exhausted.
His lips touched her forehead, hovering there for a moment. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart. I've got you.”
Yeah, he did.
He hadn't gotten angry at her for freaking out right in the middle of sex. He hadn't run from the room or looked at her like she was crazy, instead, he’d done the opposite. There had been understanding in his eyes, concern too, but not the patronizing kind. And he was still here, holding her in his arms. He was a good guy, and with him beside her she might actually manage to sleep without the nightmares tonight.
July13th
2:16 A.M.
Something woke him.
It took Matthew a few moments to figure out what it was. It wasn’t the beautiful woman snuggled at his side, Grace had been sleeping peacefully ever since he’d tucked her against him, like her brain had been waiting for a safehold so it could let go and finally get the rest it needed. He’d been majorly unprepared for her meltdown right in the middle of making out. She’d had no problem with his fingers between her legs, it wasn’t until he went to thrust inside her tight, wet heat that she’d freaked.
It hadn't gone unnoticed that when he touched her as a lover would she’d been fine, but when he’d gone to have sex with her—as someone touching her against her will might—she’d snapped.
Further proof there was something she was still holding back.
If it wasn’t Grace who had awakened him then it was something else.
Matthew carefully reached out and grabbed his cell phone from the nightstand. There were no alerts, so he knew the house’s security system hadn't been breached. There weren’t any calls or texts from the team watching the house either. So what had woken him?
A gentle breeze wafted through the open bedroom window and he knew.
Smell.
Even in sleep his nose had picked up on the smell of smoke and alerted his brain that it needed to do something about it.
“Grace, wake up,” he said, giving her a shake as he hurried out of the bed and to the window, confirming his worst fears. The house across the street where the pair of cops watching the house were staying was up in flames.
Neither of them had contacted him, were they already dead?
And why had Emmanuel gone after them instead of going straight for Grace.