Page 32 of Awakened By the Guardian

He was silent for a long moment. She was too, as she tried to settle her heartbeat and ease the tightness in her chest. She didn’t want to give him hope that she was anything more than what she’d said this morning: completely uninterested in sex. Except, maybe she was interested. What if it was possible for her to enjoy it? What if—with Gary—she could feel more than just muscle contractions that before had left her feeling emptier than ever?

He spoke, and his expression was gentle. “What do you want to do now?”

“Rest,” she answered. “And to make sure you rest so that you’re in good shape for going furry. Since that’s what you want.”

“It is,” he agreed quietly.

She nodded. “Then get in there.”

He wheeled into the guest room then waited for her to join him. “Lie down with me. Friends only. I won’t push at all. I swear.”

“You don’t know how to not push,” she joked. Then, before he could argue more, she held up her hand. “Just get into bed.”

It took a bit for him to adjust and lock down his wheelchair, but he managed. Maybe he had better hip control than before; it was hard to tell and she didn’t want to ask. She didn’t want to get his hopes up any more than they already were.

He stretched out on his back, his chair beside the bed, and he gestured to her. “Come on.”

She nodded and kicked off her shoes. Climbing onto the opposite side of the mattress, she planned to just close her eyes there but he tugged on her sleeve.

“Not over there. Come on. Rest with me.”

“I am not going to lie touching you.” That would be too intimate now. Too…something.

“Fine. But be close enough to touch if I need you.”

She arched a brow. “You could always just say something.”

“I might choke or something in my sleep. I might get lockjaw, or my vocal chords might suddenly atrophy. I might get hit by a falling piano.”

She snorted. “You are such a pain in the ass.”

Still, she complied. She wanted to, really. If she was honest, she wanted to curl into his side and smell his scent. She wanted his heat against her skin. But she didn’t want more, and lest he think she did, she turned her back on him.

She leaned there against his side, letting her head rest half on his arm, half on a pillow. If he’d had use of his legs, he probably would have rolled to his side and spooned her. As it was, he could only cross his free arm over his chest and stroke her neck. But damn if that didn’t cause a shiver of delight. And damn if her nipples didn’t tingle with each stroke. It was the most she’d ever felt, but she didn’t want to say so.

“Thank you for being with me, Margaret. This whole thing is better with you here.”

“It’s what best friends are for.”

“You know,” he said, his voice light. “Best friends can be together. They can get married and live happily ever after. Sometimes they even have sex and children. When they both want that….”

She didn’t answer. She wanted to say something smartass like, “Shut up,” or “Awww, how Hallmark.” She wanted to say that, but his words struck deep into her soul. She wanted what he described. How awesome would it be to live a happily-ever-after with her best friend? It didn’t get any better than that.

But how likely was it that this strange aberration she was feeling could last? How could she know what was romantic love and not best-friend love? Was it really possible that everyone before sucked at making her happy in bed? Or was it something else?

“Margaret?”

“Go to sleep,” she said. “I’m processing.”

He squeezed her shoulder. “Just think about us, okay?”

She snorted. “What do you think ‘processing’ means?”

He chuckled, and then she heard him yawn. Yeah, whether he realized it or not, he needed to sleep.

“Okay,” he muttered. “But promise we can talk about it later.”

“Okay,” she said.