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Why was I acting this way? My guilt over being so contradictory consumed me, and it surprised me that despite my back-and-forth assessments and accusations, he was still being kind to me. There was absolutely no reason he should be helping me, especially after what I said. But he still was.
I didn’t deserve his generosity. So, why was I constantly trying to sabotage such a good thing?
I shivered, tucking the covers tighter up to my chin. It sucked even more that I wanted him to touch me. His body heat, the warmth that exuded from him would brush across me every so often, and it only reinforced the fact that despite being mostly dry, I was still quite cold. These small blankets really didn’t do much for me. I’d always been a stick, teased for growing up not out, and the one thing I hated most about it was that I was always cold.
Except at this moment, a second thing bothered me more. I knew I’d never be attractive to someone like Cassidy Duke, which only made me hate his perfection more. He was almost too good to be true, and I was anything but.
My body convulsed again, shaking as I pulled my knees up to my chest.
“You okay?” His voice, low and gentle with that hint of a twang, danced through the darkness.
“Yeah,” I quickly replied.
“So, you’re not shaking ’cause you’re cold,” he stated.
I sighed, the air from my breath forming a small cloud before dissipating in front of me. “I might be a little chilly.”
The blankets across Cassidy’s body shifted, and my eyes widened as he rolled over to face me. “Come here,” he whispered. Large, rough hands, coated in familiar callouses slipped beneath the only source of warmth covering my figure. They ran across my arm and wrapped around my torso, pulling my body toward a chest that rose and fell steadily with each breath he inhaled and exhaled.
Cassidy tugged me against his body, gently cocooning me within his embrace.
And I had no idea what to say. Or do. Or think.
He was…holding me. Cassidy voluntarily touched me, offered me comfort despite my attitude toward him.
For the first time in my life, I felt…small—in a powerfully, feminine way. In a way that made me feel safe as my cheek rested against his chest. A soft dusting of hair upon his body tickled my ear, but I didn’t move. Instead, I listened to the steady rhythm of his beating heart.
He didn’t say anything to me, nor did I to him.
Eventually, a soft snore escaped his lips, his hands still tenderly holding me against him. He was warm; his skin brushing against mine ignited a fire that roared hot desire sharply through my veins. Wait, hold on. No. The goosebumps on my skin were gone because of his hold. His warm embrace was why my body felt the way it did. There was nothing else to his touch that would make me snuggle in a little tighter.
Getting warm was the entire reason that heat swirled within my core and flames licked at the edges of my skin.
That had to be it. I needed that to be it.
A shiver ran down my spine as I closed my eyes and tucked my face tighter against his frame, which may only be an inch or two taller than me but still seemed to swallow me whole. The faint hint of bergamot he typically exuded wasn’t there at the moment, but the hay and leather scent lingered. Mixed with freshly fallen rain and a bit of mud.
I couldn’t help but smile.
For tonight, for this one, simple moment, I could pretend that a man saw me.
Truly saw me.
∞∞∞
Something gentle brushed across the nape of my neck. Hot breath, rhythmical and soft, danced over my skin, pulling me from the restful sleep I’d been tangled in. Arms held me tightly against a bare chest that rose and fell with each puff of air.
Cassidy was still holding me.
I was asleep in Cassidy’s embrace.
I slept all night long being held by him.
Maybe he wasn’t as bad as I’d made him out to be. Rooney might have actually been right. Beneath that gruff exterior of a haughty, conceited shell, was a man dripping with one thing driving him. One thing that I’d caught a glimpse of last night when he’d nearly lost his own life while trying to keep mine safe—a need to take care of others. Just as he had done for Rooney all those years ago.
Cassidy might not be as selfish as I thought. Maybe his motivations for doing what he was doing in this life had little to do with how it benefited him, or how easily things were given to him, and everything to do with others. His answer to my unfinished story probably held some weight to it; though, the reason that he’d gotten so upset had little to do with the story and everything to do with my question.
But that was something for another day. Right now, while he was still asleep, I could pretend like I wasn’t aware he was holding me. It would be simple pretending like the tightening pressure of his arms around me meant nothing—the moment that we both woke up, this never happened.
