Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
And now I'm looking at someone just like her. I couldn't help her when she was in the middle of it, but I can help her now. "I need you to let me help you," I murmur, and this time, I'm not trying to play the stoic one. The guy with the answers, the silent protector. I'm talking to her, but I'm talking to my mom, too. All of the old hopelessness bubbles up and wants to boil over. "Let me help you. Let me do what I need to do. Please."
There are a million questions in how she looks at me, in the eyebrow she arches and the confused purse of her lips. Lips I want to kiss—God, how I want to kiss them. I want to kiss her until she forgets everything but me. "I'll try. That's the best I can say. I'll try."
And I know better than to hope for more than that. I also know better than to think that if I kissed her right now, it would be all for her sake. To comfort her, but that would be a lie because kissing her right now would be comforting myself, too, which is precisely why that can't happen. None of this is supposed to be about me or what I want… or need.
Tatum yawns, and I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It's past three a.m. now. "We should both get to bed." I doubt I'll be able to fall asleep right away, but then I've stirred up a lot of internal shit inside my brain, and I know myself well enough to know I'll be thinking for a while. Nights are always the worst. The time when there's nothing to distract myself with, and I'm lying here in the same room I used to lie in as a child and hope the door didn't suddenly fly open—though I would always rather he come in and take his rage out on me than on Mom.
She yawns again, and the motion brings me back to the present. "Get going, Princess. Any moment now, you're going to fall asleep while standing here."
"Am not. Maybe I'll just go downstairs," she sighs. "I'll turn on the TV and eventually fall asleep on the couch." She even stands and stretches, throwing her arms over her head, and it takes every single ounce of restraint I have to pry my eyes from her tits when they shift under that cotton T-shirt. Here I am, talking about it being my job to protect her, and I'm staring at her like some perverted creep.
A perverted creep who doesn't want her to sit alone all night. I'm not even sure what stirs me to say the next sentence. I'll chalk it up to zero sleep. "If it would make you feel better, and so you wouldn't be alone, you can sleep in here with me."
Fuck, I'm a glutton for punishment. There's no other explanation.
"Really?" The hope in her breathless voice makes me glad I offered, even if the price will be a boner from hell.
"Yes, but the second you kick me in the side, your ass is going back in your bed."
"I don't kick in my sleep, loser." She's like a happy little girl, full of relief and willing to promise anything so long as it means she's not alone. Me, on the other hand? All I can do is regret my weakness as I lie down on my back and wait for her to curl up beside me, her head on my shoulder. Even though there's plenty of room and she doesn't need to be so close. My lips part and I'm prepared to tell her to back off, but my heart lurches in my chest at the thought of shattering her at a moment like this. When she's this vulnerable and close. It doesn't help one fucking bit that it feels good either and that I really don't want her to back off. I don't want to be alone either, but I know better than to touch her or pull her closer. Tatum can't give me the comfort I need, nor should she. She deserves better, more. Her warmth radiates into my side, and that's enough for me. Against my better judgment, I suck her sweet scent into my lungs: lavender and chamomile.
Calmness washes over me, my heart rate slowing as I give into her presence.
"Thank you," she mumbles in the middle of a yawn. I don't trust myself to say anything, so I settle for a grunt. Soon, her breathing goes slow and steady, and her head becomes heavier as she settles into sleep.
Sleep won't come to me, I know, so I stare at the ceiling, letting my thoughts percolate, wondering if someone was really following her after all. She's jumped to conclusions before, but I've worked with Callum long enough to know there's no such thing as a coincidence. She was terrified tonight, enough to seek out the comfort of a man she despises. This wasn't random.