Worth It (Forbidden Men, #6)(101)

I went home that night, dismissing the entire invitation. I’d learned enough distressing things over the years; I didn’t need to discover more.

As I let myself into the quiet apartment, where Felicity had left on a single light in the kitchen, probably to help me see my way through, I pressed my back to the door and inhaled deeply. This place was already beginning to smell like her.

I drew in deep drudges, telling myself it would be best if I moved out and got as far away from her as possible, though all the while I knew I wasn’t going anywhere. From the moment I’d learned she worked at Forbidden, a part of me had always known I’d stick around. Six years ago, my life mission had been to be wherever she was, and my heart was still stuck on that goal.

Being this close to her was too addictive for me to leave.

I just had to figure out how to keep her at arm’s length and safe from me while I stayed so close.

And seconds after I told myself that, I stopped at her bedroom door before creeping it open to make sure she was okay. When I saw her sleeping deeply, the covers pulled up and tucked securely under her armpits with her cheek resting on her hands, I exhaled in relief.

Quietly, I shut the door and carried on to my room. After stripping to my boxers, I sat on the edge of the bed and eyed the half-eaten sandwich I’d left earlier. My stomach growled.

As much as I wanted to keep it for sentimental value, it’d probably insult her if I didn’t finish it, and the thought and care behind it would go to waste if I let it go bad. Besides, I was starving. So I downed the rest of the peanut butter and jelly.

Depression swamped me as I swallowed the last of the gift, though. I still wanted something of hers I could keep with me always, a memento to carry me through after she was separated from me again.

Just before I dropped off for the night, I wondered how creepy it would be for me to steal something from her, maybe something she’d just thrown out and didn’t want anymore, anything I could make my keepsake.

Yeah, that was probably full-blown cray-cray. Probably shouldn’t do that.

I drifted off, imagining what I’d take anyway. Something with her scent, something I’d seen her use to help me bring up her face later on, after she was gone again.

Articles of clothing and some of her hairpins were floating through my head when my dream transformed to fuzzy gruesome images. Hands gripping my hair and pulling, shoving me face-first into a concrete floor. Fists beating on me. Shanks gouging my flesh. Monsters ripping down my pants.

I thrashed and shouted, fighting them off, but more just kept coming. No matter how many times I stabbed, no matter how much blood flowed, another figure leapt at me, breaking everything I was.

But then City was there, her voice in my ear, her smell in my nostrils. I gripped cloth, feeling soft woman under it, and I burrowed close, seeking her warmth and safety.

“It’s okay,” she murmured, stroking my scalp. “It’s just a bad dream.”

I sank into the comfort, lax and cozy, murmuring “City,” before everything went black and I didn’t dream again for the rest of the night.

When I woke, my face was buried between two breasts. One of my thighs was thrown over a lush hip and my bare leg tangled with more bare legs. The scent of Felicity and the warmth of her palm on the back of my head, cradling me to her chest, had my morning wood turning into something more like morning steel. My hand rested at the hem of her nightdress, and the urge to gather it up, then roll completely on top of her before plunging into her warmth was strong.

So I jerked upright, gasping in a breath, hoping it would bring reason and sanity to my brain. She stirred as I scrambled to the opposite side of the mattress.

After briefly opening her eyes, the blue in them extra bright this morning, and then closing them again before yawning and stretching, she mumbled, “’Morning.”

“’Morning,” I repeated, not sure why I was being so pleasant with her. I should be pissed; she was in my bed...without my permission. But I still wanted to climb on top of her and f*ck her like crazy, so yeah...I couldn’t summon even an ounce of outraged anger. Instead I said, “You’re in my bed.”

“Yeah.” She started to sit upright too and the sheet slid down to her lap, revealing her conservative nightshirt that still didn’t hide the sway of her braless breasts underneath. When her red bedhead hair tumbled over her shoulders, I almost lost it. Swear to God, I never wanted anyone as much as I wanted her right then. And there’d been many times six years ago when she’d tempted me to the brink.

“You had a nightmare,” she explained.

I shook my head. “You shouldn’t have come in here. I thrash a lot when I’m dreaming. I could’ve accidentally hit you.”

She only smiled. “But you didn’t.”

I opened my mouth to argue that it was too risky when she added, “Eva said Julian and Skylar would crawl into bed with you every night, and you never accidentally hit either of them.”

I clenched my teeth, silently cursing Pick’s gossipy woman. “Thus the reason I moved out of there so quickly. Just because I hadn’t hurt them yet, didn’t mean I wouldn’t eventually.”

“Is that why you agreed to move in with me?” she asked, cocking her head thoughtfully to the side. “To protect the babies.”

I was actually more concerned with protecting her. But if she wanted to assume that was the case, I’d let her. “Don’t ever come in here in the middle of the night again. It’s not safe for you. I’m not some ten-year-old boy dreaming about his mommy. I don’t need you to give me a lucky rabbit foot, monster repellant, or any kind of security object. I can take care of myself.”