Nothing.
He sighed. “Twink?” Still nothing. Maybe he’d have to go with his gut then. He took a deep breath and hoped that this didn’t wreck the bond they had.
“Juliet,” he said sternly. “I want you to look at me.”
Well. That worked. Not.
“I’m going to touch you now. If you don’t want that, it’s time to speak up.”
Nothing.
Fuck it. Well, now he had to follow through, didn’t he?
He wasn’t sure who this would be harder on. Reaching over, giving her plenty of time to protest, he lifted her onto his lap.
Yeah, having her ass pressed against his dick? Definitely harder for him.
She was stiff as a board and he sighed. Shit.
He tugged at the blanket around her. It was black. What was with her love of black? If she was his . . .
Easy.
The blanket seemed to be weighted, which made sense as it should be good for her anxiety. Grabbing her right hand, he winced at how cold it was. It shouldn’t be, if anything, it was overly warm in here. But her hand was freezing. He moved his fingers to her pulse.
Too fast.
“Twink, hold onto me. Hold my shirt.” He knew that gave her comfort.
For a moment, he didn’t think she would react. Then her hand twisted in the front of his shirt, holding on tight.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “I’m going to stand now and sit on the sofa.”
No reaction, but once he was on the sofa, she turned towards him, burying her face in his chest.
Okay, he hadn’t expected that. He held his arms away from her, then realized how ridiculous he was being. She needed to be touched.
“Do you need my skin, baby?”
She nodded. He undid the first few buttons of his shirt and her cool cheek touched his chest.
Talk about torture.
Easy. Don’t react.
“Hear my heartbeat?”
Another nod.
“Then you know you’re not alone, right?”
Another nod.
But he wasn’t putting up with that.
“I’m going to need you to use words, Twink.”
Her breath hit his chest. Fuck. Think about something unsexy. Herpes. Warts. Reuben naked.