The Billionaire's Christmas Baby(14)

Her palms started sweating as she contemplated what to do. It wasn’t like they were friends. In fact, his last words had been to get the hell out of his house tomorrow. She couldn’t just walk into his room and intrude. But then again, if he was sick, wasn’t it her duty as a human being to help him? And she was a social worker. Wasn’t it her job to help people? She bit her lower lip, her right hand on the doorknob. Okay, Hannah, if you don’t hear anything for another minute leave and go to your bedroom. If you hear him again you’ve got to walk in.

Sure enough, a few seconds later she heard him again. She took a deep breath and slowly opened the door, the floorboards creaking as she walked across the threshold. She held her breath but didn’t move. The room was dark so she opened the door fully, letting the light from the hallway cast enough of a glow so that she could see where she walked. Jackson was in bed. A dark duvet was thrown off his body and he lay on his back, his head turned away from hers.

The one thing she could make out clearly was that Jackson only slept in boxers. And every inch of his long frame was solid and muscular. That strength that was so obvious, even while he slept, made her slightly nervous. After their time together and his words about never touching a woman in anger, she believed him. She did trust him in that respect.

She watched him for a few more seconds. She really should stop staring. Honestly, it wasn’t like he was the first beautiful man she’d ever seen. Okay, well, maybe the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. Snap out of it, Hannah. It was an invasion of his space, and he looked fine now.

She started to tiptoe out of the room, wincing as each creak in the floor sounded louder than the storm outside. She had almost made it to the open door when a guttural cry that sent shivers down her spine tore through the room. She whipped her head around to look at Jackson. He still slept. His eyes were shut. She could make out the pain in his features, and she saw the sweat lining his forehead. He was having some sort of nightmare.

She had to wake him up, but that would mean getting close to him. What if he lashed out at her without realizing what he was doing in his sleep? Or when he woke, he could be horribly upset that she’d intruded. She couldn’t stand here and do nothing.

Her eyes scanned the room frantically and then settled on a stack of books on his bedside table. Maybe she could nudge him awake with a book. A hardcover. At least she’d be able to keep a little bit of a distance, and she wouldn’t have to touch his bare skin. Perfect.

When she saw him clench the sheet, his forearm and hand rigid with strain, she finally moved. She quickly grabbed the top book on the stack and moved beside him. She bit her lower lip and tapped him on the shoulder with the book. Then she quickly stepped back, almost tripping over her own feet.

Nothing. He still didn’t wake up.

She inched forward again, holding her breath, book in hand and plunged it into his shoulder. Suddenly a hand that felt like steel clamped down hard on her wrist and yanked her onto the bed, flipping her over and pinning her on her back. Jackson’s strong, muscular legs straddled hers and locked her arms down beside her head. She stared into his eyes and knew he wasn’t quite awake. She stayed perfectly still, her heart pounding painfully in her chest, waiting for him to become aware of what he was doing.


“Jackson.”

His eyes went from blankness to reality. He swore loudly and ducked his head, pushing off of her and rolling onto his back beside her on the bed.

Hannah lay still beside him. She tried to catch her breath but couldn’t move yet. Her body felt like a quivering mass of gelatin.

“Sorry, I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know it was you,” Jackson said a moment later, his voice raw and gruff. “Are you okay?”

Hannah struggled to regain her composure. She glanced over at him, his rigid posture unmistakable in the dim lighting. “I should be asking you that.”

He ran his hands over his face roughly. “I sometimes have, uh, nightmares.”

“I heard you from my room, I thought you were sick or I never would have come in here,” she said haltingly, not knowing if he was angry with her.

“God, I never meant to scare you.” He squeezed his eyes shut, before turning to look at her. Hannah felt her heart jolt unexpectedly at the softness in his voice. He wasn’t angry at all. He wasn’t the same man in front of the fire yelling at her to go home. She looked into his eyes and saw how soft and warm they could be. She noticed the shape of his lips. They were sensual, perfectly shaped. He had turned on his side so that he faced her completely. She was still on her back, there was no way she’d turn too… it was too… intimate.

When she lifted her eyes to meet his she saw that he was still looking at her. She remembered he had asked her if he had scared her. “You didn’t. I’m not afraid of you,” she finally answered, her voice sounding strange to her ears. “Besides,” she said, forcing herself to sound flippant, “I’ve taken lots of self defense classes. I could have tossed you to the ground with one foot if I needed to.”

The sound of Jackson’s deep laughter filled the room and made her smile involuntarily in the darkness. He had a rich and deep laugh. She didn’t want to notice that either.

“I’ll be sure to remember that,” he said, the smile still in his voice.

They were whispering in the darkness. The intimacy of the situation was not lost on her. His body was so close that she could feel the warmth emanating from him. She could smell his soap combined with his own masculine scent, and she found herself responding to him in a way that was anything but platonic. And that was not a good idea. She frowned down at her clothes. Both of them were wearing far too little clothing for two people who barely knew each other. She needed to get off the bed pronto.