Midnight Exposure (Midnight #1)(44)
“No.” Jayne shook her head and straightened. The heater was doing its job in the small space. She slipped off her coat and draped it over one arm. “I just couldn’t sleep.”
Reed turned to the sink and washed his hands. He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Nightmare?”
The vision edged into her consciousness. Angry eyes, glittering with the reflection of her fear, glared at her through a black mask. Jayne’s chest tightened, and she shoved the images away. Too soon. “I don’t want to talk about it right now. Maybe later.”
“OK.” He dried his hands on a clean towel.
Jayne sneezed. The air carried the clean scent of sawdust, with an oily undercurrent. “What’s that smell?”
“Linseed oil. It’s a wood finish.”
“Is that what you’ll use on Mae’s chest?”
“No. I’ll try to match the existing finish. Is there anything I can do for you?” Reed tucked his thumbs into the front pockets of his jeans and waited for her response.
Erasing her memory would be great.
Blood. Pain. Panic. Her bare legs scraping on asphalt. Agony shooting through her head as he dragged her by the ponytail. Dry terror choking off her screams as her feet kicked and scrambled uselessly for traction.
Time blurred. Wrong attack.
Her eyes squeezed shut as the images raced through her head and collided with one another. Assaults blended together in a terrifying barrage of sensation. The sound of rushing water, loud as Niagara Falls, blocked out her hearing.
Reed reached for her shoulders. “Jayne.”
She opened her eyes. The agony in their turquoise depths cleaved a rift in the center of his chest. And when she straightened, lifting her chin bravely with a shaky sigh, his shield of objectivity shattered. He was open. Raw. As vulnerable as the woman before him.
There was no use pretending her turmoil didn’t touch him.
She mattered. Beyond Hugh’s case. Beyond keeping her physically safe. Beyond any sense of duty. What happened to Jayne mattered to him. He couldn’t abandon her emotional need any more than he could have left her collapsed in the blizzard.
“I’m sorry.” She shifted her weight as if to step back, but her eyes were still liquid pools of pain. Her pulse throbbed visibly in the curve of her neck and she trembled in a valiant attempt to slow her respiration.
“Nothing to be sorry about.” Reed pulled her close, ignoring the screaming of his brain. This is a bad idea. She’s a storm ripping through your soul, and she will leave a hole as great as Sherman’s march to Savannah in her wake. He told his brain to shut up and rested his forehead against her temple. He was taking this minute and storing every sensation for the long, cold season ahead. “Nobody should have to face what you did alone.”
She stiffened for a second, then settled against his chest. Just a few inches shorter than he was, she turned her head so her face nestled in the hollow of his shoulder. A perfect fit. He stroked her spine, the muscles long and firm under his hand, as he inhaled the floral scent of her hair. Her back relaxed under the gentle sweep of his palm.
Her breaths slowed. The pounding of her heart against his lessened. A surge of satisfaction flowed through Reed, along with the sense that he’d just willingly stepped into the path of disaster. Her hips settled against his, and Reed’s next breath locked in his chest for a few seconds as passion awakened inside him from its half-decade nap. He shifted his weight to avoid transmitting his libido’s sudden rise and shine.
Jayne lifted her head. Something flickered through her eyes. Regret? Embarrassment? For what? A momentary weakness? There was nothing weak about the embrace. If anything, Reed could feel strength flowing between them. Mingling. Growing. Making him wonder which one of them needed the contact more. The surge of desire through his veins was primitive, powerful, and raw.
He couldn’t speak. His throat was clogged with things he couldn’t explain, emotions he hadn’t experienced in so long they felt like strangers. He’d thought he’d gone permanently numb, but he’d been wrong. Emotions still chugged through him, like water flowing under a frozen river.
She’d either given him an awesome gift…or pushed him out onto thin ice.
The question remained: What would happen after she left? Would he continue to feel or refreeze?
And would he be able to deal with either outcome?
“Thank you.” She stepped back, moving out of his arms, leaving a chill behind that forecasted a brutal, lonely winter ahead.
Jayne rubbed her arms. Reed’s woodsy scent clung to her nostrils as she fought the urge to step back into his arms, rest her head against his broad chest, and inhale deeply once again. The gentle slide of his fingertips along her backbone mesmerized, soothed— and warmed her from the inside out.
It had been years since she’d allowed a man to touch her. Desire wasn’t the only thing she felt. Reed made her feel strong and capable. Something she hadn’t thought she’d experience again. Her cheeks flamed.
Did he notice her flush? Of course he did. Her skin was so fair, a blush stood out like a signal flare. She tried to look away, but her eyes were locked on Reed’s, where she saw her own confusion reflected right back at her. His detached mask had slipped away, leaving behind equal amounts of shock and sadness.
And heat.
A tingle passed through her belly, and she savored it for a moment. Her body was ready to answer even if she knew her head wasn’t in the right place. She hadn’t felt any amount of attraction for a man in so many years. Just the knowledge that the sexual being inside her wasn’t dead was a relief.