Wilde at Heart (Wilde Security, #3)(68)

“I don’t care.”

“You have to care.”

“Sweetheart…” How to make her understand? He was under no illusions—he knew her past wasn’t pretty. But tonight, as he’d watched her crumple under the scrutiny of his contemporaries, then rebuild herself while dancing covered in splatter paint, he’d realized her past didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because the future was what mattered, and they could build an amazing one together. More than that, he wanted a future with her. He loved the color and unpredictability she brought into his life.

But he saw that he wasn’t going to convince her of it right now. No matter what he said, she wasn’t going to believe him.

He pulled her into his arms again, smoothing a hand over her hair and back. The water had run cool and goose bumps roughened her skin, tremors racing just underneath. “Let’s go to bed.”

She sucked in a sharp breath. “You mean the same bed?”

“Yeah. The same bed.” He wasn’t about to give her a chance to protest and scooped her into his arms again. But she didn’t seem to be in a protesting mood, which was troubling. Shelby always had a comeback ready. Her sharp tongue was one of the things he loved about her.

He deposited her on the counter by the sink and opened the linen closet for a towel to warm her up. She’d gone pale, and he didn’t like the glassy, shell-shocked look in her eyes, but who could blame her? Although it had ended on a high note, the rest of the day had been one devastating blow after another. She had the right to a bit of distress. He wrapped her in the biggest towel he owned and briskly rubbed her arms until some color returned to her cheeks.

She finally stirred, pushing him away. “I can do it myself.”

“Okay.” Reece went back for a second towel, silently cursing as he dried himself with a lot less care. He’d bungled the whole I-love-you thing. He knew it, didn’t know how to fix it, and that bugged the hell out of him. He was good at fixing things, but this was completely uncharted territory for him.

Reece discarded his towel in the laundry basket and turned to see Shelby had hopped down from the counter. The towel now wrapped around her was as big as a dress, swallowing her up in folds of terry cloth. She always seemed bigger than life to him, and he often forgot how petite she truly was until a moment like this came along and smacked him with the realization.

Someone could so easily hurt her.

Someone had already tried to. Multiple times.

He swallowed the growing lump of dread in his throat. No matter how things shook out between them, tomorrow he was going to put an end to her problems. He wanted her safe and, if The Headhunters wanted money, he’d pay them every dollar in his bank account to keep her that way.

She stared across the bathroom at him as if she wasn’t sure what to say. She even opened her mouth, but no sound emerged.

He wished he knew how to reach her, but the gap opening between them was more than the few feet of physical space separating them. She was on guard now, closing down, shutting him out.

“Shelby,” he began and stalled. Last thing he wanted was to spook her more than she already was. “Don’t feel pressured. If you’re not comfortable sharing my bed, I won’t make you.”

She pressed her lips together in a thin line and hugged the towel tighter around her. “Why?” she blurted after another long silence.

“Because I’m not a complete *. Despite recent evidence to the contrary.”

She rolled her eyes, a hint of that old Shelby spark. “No. Why do you think you love me?”

“Why do you think I don’t?”

Uncertain again, she picked at a loose thread on the towel. “Nobody’s ever said those words to me before. I didn’t think anyone could.”

His heart cracked. “Jesus. You think you’re unlovable.”

She breathed out in a soft, tear-choked laugh. “I think you’d have to be crazy to love me, and you’re not crazy, Reece Wilde. Not even a little bit.”

Fuck this awkwardness. He strode forward and wrapped her in his arms, hugging her tight. “You’ve been hurt. I believe in ways I don’t—can’t—understand because before my parents—” He stopped, had to clear away the sudden roughness in this throat. “I came from a good, strong family with a solid foundation. I know what love looks like, feels like, and I know it’s what I feel for you. I also know it scares you because it’s not something you’ve had a lot of experience with.”

Her breath shuddered out, hot against his bare chest. “Can we talk about this tomorrow? I-I need to sleep.”

“Okay.” He schooled his features to keep his disappointment from showing and dropped his arms to his sides. “Okay. I’ll see you in the morning then.”

“Wait.” She captured his hand before he turned away. “Your bed. Please. I’d like to stay in your bed with you.”





Chapter Twenty-Five


A phone’s buzzing woke Reece from a dreamless sleep. Text message. Had to be because the vibration stopped a half second later. Shelby was still in bed with him, wrapped around him with her head resting on his chest. Surprising. He’d half expected her to slink back to her room after he fell asleep.

He liked waking up like this, with her hair tickling his neck and his arm numb from cradling her all night long. All mornings should start like this.