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After everything she’d endured, she’d long believed she would never feel visceral attraction again, but she couldn’t deny the answering heat building within her. She wanted Caleb with a ferocity that made her knees weak.
Her heart stuttered in her chest as he reached for the fly of his pants, the rasp of the zipper loud in the hushed room. The fabric parted, revealing dark boxer briefs that did little to conceal the thick ridge of his cock. She swallowed hard, her mouth dry as her gaze traveled down the powerful lines of his legs.
“Lie down, Grace.” His voice was a commanding rumble.
Yes.
She lay down, sinking against plush pillows as Caleb flicked off the bedside lamp. The mattress dipped once more as he stretched out behind her, the heat of his body searing through the thin barrier of her borrowed pajamas.
He slid one arm beneath her pillow. The other draped across her waist, his large hand splaying possessively over her stomach as he drew her against his hard body. His clean musky scent permeated her brain, chasing away the night’s fear till there was nothing but Caleb, his heat, his solidity, his protection.
She closed her eyes, trying to breathe. His sheer size surrounded her. The heat radiating from the unyielding wall of his muscles at her back was staggering. Where his bare flesh touched hers, she felt scorched, as if the atoms of her being were being rearranged by his proximity. Surely, nothing should feel as good as this? His body molded itself to every curve and hollow of hers, his touch marking her in ways she couldn’t comprehend.
He nuzzled her hair. “Sleep, Grace. You’re safe tonight.”
His warmth seeped into her, obliterating the empty cold that had lived in her for far too long.
She couldn’t remember ever being held like this. Richard had insisted on separate bedrooms, only sharing a bed when he wanted sex. But here, now, cocooned in Caleb’s arms, she felt treasured.
Gradually, the soothing cadence of his heartbeat lulled her, making her limbs heavy and warm. She fell asleep free of shadows, secure, knowing this man—this guardian—would protect her.
24
Sunlight pierced the bedroom through a chink in the drapes, striping across Caleb’s face and waking him from a deep sleep. An unfamiliar weight pressed against his back—a soft, feminine form molded to the curves of his body. Grace. The rhythm of her breath was featherlight against the back of his neck as memories of last night trickled into place—speaking aloud about Marie for the first time in years. The invasion into his home by Hudson’s men.
He’d only known Grace a few fleeting days, yet baring his innermost thoughts to her had felt…right. Inevitable, in a way he couldn’t fully grasp. As if deep down, he had met a kindred spirit.
He exhaled a shuddering breath, bracing for the tidal wave of guilt and recrimination that always hit him when he relived the past. But seconds ticked by, and the furious pounding of his heart slowed. Only a faint tremor of anxiety chased across his shoulders—there and gone before he could seize it.
The permanent constriction in his chest had loosened, easing to allow him to simply…breathe. The memories still ached, a reminder of what he had lost. But right now, their power to paralyze him with self recrimination had faded to a whisper.
Grace stretched against him, her arm draping possessively across his chest, her knee lifting to hook her leg over his as if her slight form could shield him from his demons. This change in him was her doing. Telling her hadn’t erased the hurt and pain, but her quiet acceptance had softened the savage bite of his memories, neutralizing their intensity into something more muted.
A fleeting pang of guilt rushed him. She had enough of her own troubles without taking on his as well. And yet, she was still here, the peaceful rhythm of her breathing feathering his skin.
His attention zeroed in on the sensation. Back to the here and now. Of her closeness. Of how her body felt against his, the smile on her face as she ate dinner last night, the way she’d licked her lips after drinking her beer.
Shit.
Blood flooded his cock, and he was rock hard in seconds.
He swallowed a groan, squeezed his eyes tight and tried to think of freezing cold water, anything but the satin of her skin, the rise and fall of her chest pushing her breasts against him.
Not working.
His cock was painful steel in his shorts.
He rolled out of the bed. He needed a cold shower to get his head back on straight.
Quietly, he padded across the room, closing the bathroom door behind him. He turned the shower to hot, the heat sluicing the tension from his shoulders but doing nothing to ease his raging hard on. Desire coiled through him like a live wire—he needed to get her out of his system.
Caleb ground his teeth as his hand fisted his cock. He couldn’t let this go any further, not if he hoped to protect them both. He had to compartmentalize, like any other op he’d experienced as a SEAL.
But raging need tore through his body, bucking against his tenuous control.
He took his cock with firm strokes, while he imagined Grace under him, her dark hair splayed like a river over white pillows, her eyes blown and drowsy with need. He placed one hand on the shower wall, tilting his body so that the hot water hit between his shoulder blades as he worked his cock harder.
One thought seared his mind.
