Blow(34)

The staircase wasn’t wide, nor was it narrow. I occupied my mind with facts about her place as I descended the stairs. If I didn’t, I know what I’d do when I got near her again. My body hummed a tune all its own when she was close. To be more accurate, my cock had its own heartbeat.

As I took the last stair, I kept my eyes down. I’d send her up to her bed without really looking at her. That had to help. But f*ck me if I’d be able to sleep. My soles hit the hardwood and I couldn’t control my urge to sneak just a peek of her. When I did, I saw that she was snuggled up in a ball on the couch, fast asleep.

Okay.

With a slight change of plans, I checked all the doors. Closed the blinds. Turned the lights off.

It was three thirty. As soon as daylight hit, I’d leave.

I sat on the other end of the couch—it was that or the kitchen chair—and slid my SIG Sauer on the end table next to me. My head fell back and I decided to close my eyes for a few minutes.

In what seemed like moments later, the couch shifted and some kind of cry filled the room. I snapped my eyes open and switched the lamp on.

It was Elle.

A tortured moan ripped from her throat and her knuckles were white as they gripped the blanket that was wrapped around her.

I reached for her. “Elle, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up.”

She didn’t wake.

I crawled over her and shook her gently. “Elle, wake up.”

She was squeezing her eyes shut. “Stop it. Stop right now.”

I ran a hand down her face and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Elle.”

She opened her eyes and shot up.

“You’re trembling. Are you okay?” I asked in a hushed, whispered tone.

In this single moment, I wished I were better at this. Wished I knew what to say to make her feel better. But the truth was, I had no f*cking clue.

She didn’t say a word. She just looked at me with that vulnerability she was usually good at covering up and the only thing I could think to do was hold her.

I don’t know why.

Falling to the couch, I pulled her to me. At first I felt awkward, but she was shaking so much, I just wanted to help her calm down. I stroked her back with one hand and her hair with the other.

She clung to me like I was her lifeline. I held my breath, afraid to move. When I felt her steady breathing, I finally relaxed a bit. I don’t even think she ever really woke up.

I covered us both and found myself still holding her. Wanting to make all her hurt go away. Needing to keep her safe. I didn’t let go.

Her body formed to mine in the most perfect way. One of her arms wrapped around my waist and one of her legs was tucked between mine. With her against me, my body felt strange. Alive. Like it had been brought back to life.

I knew then that I’d do whatever I had to do in order to keep her safe.

I also knew that staying away from her was the best way I could do that.

I just hoped to f*ck I could.





DAY 2





ELLE


Ring. Ring.

The incessant ringing of the telephone jarred me from slumber.

But it was the strong arms, warm body, and rhythmic breathing enveloping me that made me jerk my eyes open.

Oh. My. God.

I ignored the intrusive sound and peered up. Logan McPherson. How had I ended up sleeping in his arms? But more importantly, why did I feel so safe?

The phone cut off and then started up again.

Oh shit. What time was it?

The thought that I might have overslept and missed the opening of my store launch had me jumping up and lunging for the phone.

I looked over at Logan, who had just sat up and was scrubbing his jaw. “Hello?”

“Elle, it’s Michael. Are you okay?”

Logan was in a white T-shirt, his button-down tossed to the side of the sofa sometime during the night. “Michael, I’m fine. I was going to call you this morning to talk to you.”

“If it was about the car, you don’t have to. The garage already called to notify me that the window of the Mercedes had been broken and it wasn’t noted at pickup. I was obviously confused, but it was quickly cleared up when they told me about the flat tire. Why didn’t you call me last night?”

“The window?” I questioned.

Logan was stretching, his washboard abs peeking between the hem of his shirt and the waistband of his pants. When he heard the shock in my voice, he immediately stood and walked over. “What?” he whispered, his warm breath ghosting across my neck.

My mouth shut, my mind clouded, and my body felt aflame. God, everything about him was molten lava, hot to touch and ready to erupt.

When I didn’t answer, he repositioned that long, lean body of his so that he could hear. Closer, and closer still until his hand covered mine, and he was obviously satisfied.

That didn’t help at all.

Now our bodies were so close that I not only became very aware of just how little clothing I was wearing, but just how much I wanted him.

Michael was still talking. “The driver’s side, evidently. The garage wants me to stop by and verify that there is no interior damage from the rain before they begin the repairs.”

Shaking the fuzziness from my brain, I realized how stupid I had been. “I’m sorry. I had the garage tow it because there was no spare. It must have occurred in the process.”