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“Are you okay?” she whispers again.
No!
“Yes!” I yell out a bit too loudly. But I won’t be until I have her.
I turn off the water and shove out of the small space. A white towel that’s folded into an uneven square is ripped off of the shelf on the wall, and I shake my head into the soft material as I take long, slow breaths through my nose. Her scent surrounds every part of me. I can’t get her out of my head like this.
I dry off and pull my jeans on, opening the door to get to cool air that isn’t suffocating me with steam. I have to get out of that room before my mind wanders into darker territory that I know she isn’t ready for.
She’s a mess. She is. But she’s not damaged like I am.
She’s a beautiful, perfect mess. And I refuse to fuck her up by saddling her with my brand of insanity. My mind was carved by violence from a young age. I was caged in closets by a man who thought he could beat obedience into the fragile bones of a small boy. For a long time, I didn’t think I had emotions. I wasn’t allowed to. I had them. They belonged to me. They were real. They’re just fucked up now.
She isn’t like me in that sense. And that’s the single fucking blessing I count every day.
She calls out to me from the kitchenette, and I hear her walking my way as she speaks.
“Are you thirsty? I could–” Her words die on her lips when her attention finds me. Golden brown eyes rake up my torso and the dark tattoos that line my side. The pink of her tongue slides over her lips likeshe’sthe one who’s actually thirsty in this moment.
“No. I’m fine,” I whisper with a faint smile.
Her eyes stay glued to my chest like she’s hypnotized. She’s cute. Sexy usually, but the innocent doe eyes are really doing it for me right now. I take a single step closer to her and pull her from the trance of all the nasty, dirty things that I can see flashing behind her pretty eyes. I can physically feel the heat of her body radiating into mine and I want more too.
I want to feel every fucking part of her wrapped around me, her thighs gripping my hips tighter just so I can fuck her deeper.
I blink slowly, pushing back those irrational thoughts to make way for the calm and clear ones that I need to be focusing on right now.
“Come back to bed, Little Bird. It’s late.”
She looks up at me, biting down on her plump bottom lip. I want to smooth my thumb across it. “I was going to make coffee,” she whispers a little breathlessly, her gaze dropping down to my chest once more before darting back up to my face.
The way Atlas Ortega looks at me like I’m not a scarred, mangled mess of a man. Fuckkkkk.
“I don’t want coffee.”I want you.Those words go unspoken between us, and my tongue itches to say them. To confess them. To whisper them across her skin right before I bury my face in the heaven between her thighs.
She swallows then, and clearly, I’m not alone in thinking about all the things I want.
I grip her hand and guide her through her room, petting the small white cat that’s pacing along her dresser as I go. It purrs softly along my fingertips, but I don’t linger. I pull back the thin bedspread that looks homemade and well worn. And I wait for her to follow my lead.
“You want me to just go to bed after all that?”
My brows lift high at her question. “Yes.”
“And what will you be doing? Watching me sleep?” There’s a note of teasing in her voice.
It’s what I’ve done for five fucking years. What else is there?
“Yes,” I say instead.
She pauses but sits down, sliding her small feet beneath the blanket. There’s a moment when I consider slipping in at her side, feeling her warmth, and basking in the smell of her hair.
I’ve never had that before.
And I won’t be having it tonight.
I tuck in the edge of the blanket against her soft curves, and before I can make a mistake and climb into bed with her, I take a firm step back. And then another and another and another. Until my back is against her bedroom wall, and then I slide down to the floor. The span of the room is safely between us. My knee bends, and I rest my hand there while my head tips back comfortably against the hard surface.
“I like having you here. I weirdly feel safer,” she whispers through a yawn as she turns on her side and is clearly ready to address all the red flags in the room. “But I can’t ignore that there are things you’re not telling me.”
