Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 146666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 733(@200wpm)___ 587(@250wpm)___ 489(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 146666 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 733(@200wpm)___ 587(@250wpm)___ 489(@300wpm)
“But you matter too.”
“Course I do.” He let out a low chuckle that had her insides melting. “Don’t worry, baby. You’re not taking advantage of me. The more you need me, the more seen and valued I feel.”
“Really?” She always thought that neediness would put people off from becoming her friends . . . or more.
Is that why you stopped trying?
It just seemed easier to hide away. To not put herself out there. Of course, now she was almost desperately lonely and touch-starved.
Was that a thing? Or had she been reading too many fantasy books? It felt like a thing. As though she couldn’t get enough of him holding her. Of his skin next to hers.
“Really,” he replied. “You tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”
She nuzzled at his neck, unable to help herself. Then she froze. Shit.
He is not your emotional support person.
Instead of pushing her away, though, he leaned his head to one side. “Take all of me you need, sweetness.”
She breathed him in, pressing her face into that space he’d created. Oh, he was so warm. And he smelled so good.
Unlike her.
She had to stink. And she didn’t care what he said. She had to go have a shower.
So move off him.
“I need to have a shower.” She forced herself to get off him.
“If you’re sure that’s what you want.”
She didn’t know what she wanted. That was the problem.
Hack sat on the edge of her bed, running his hand over his face.
Greer was currently in the shower, and he was just sitting here with no idea what to do next. Should he move into the other bedroom? Give her space?
Urgh . . . he wasn’t usually this indecisive.
The water stopped running and he stood. He shuffled from foot to foot.
Talk about awkward.
The door cracked open. “Hack? Are you there?”
“Yep. Did you want me to leave? Or do you need something? I can get it for you.”
Could he stop rambling like an idiot? Would that be too much to hope for?
“Um, I was . . . I don’t have anything to put on. Could you find me something, please?”
“Of course.” He glanced around but he didn’t want to go through her luggage. So he grabbed his knife and moved back into his room. Tucking the knife into the drawer of his nightstand, he grabbed a clean T-shirt. It was so big it would work like a nightgown.
Without thinking too much about why he wanted to see her in something of his, he moved back to the bathroom door.
“I’ll set it down out here, then go wait in my room. Come in when you’re ready. If you want.”
Stop rambling, dickhead.
He headed back into his bedroom to wait.
“Um, thanks for getting me this,” she said a few minutes later.
Turning, he saw her standing in the doorway. Her long, thick dark-blond hair was pulled back into a braid with just a few wisps around her face. His T-shirt was huge on her. More like a dress that nearly fell to her knees. It was far too wide as well.
Yeah. He felt a surge of satisfaction in seeing her in his clothes.
“You’re welcome, Sugar Plum,” he told her.
“Will you not need it tomorrow, though?” She was rubbing her fingers over the T-shirt. Over and over.
“No, I’ve got plenty of clothes. I’ll be fine.”
They stood staring at each other.
“I guess I’ll go back to sleep,” she said. “Good night. And I’m sorry again.”
“No more sorries,” he grumbled.
He lay in his bed, knowing that he wouldn’t sleep much tonight. About an hour later, she started crying out again. He ran in without his knife this time, sitting on the side of the bed to stare down at her in concern.
As soon as he touched her, she settled.
He waited a few moments before returning to his bed.
About two hours later, it happened again. This time, he decided he wasn’t leaving her. He couldn’t. After he got her settled back into a deep sleep, Wally held in her arms, he pulled the chair over. Knowing he wouldn’t sleep anyway, he’d watch over her while she got some much-needed rest.
Greer woke up feeling tired. That wasn’t unusual.
What was unusual was the man sleeping in the chair next to her bed. He had his head on the mattress, and his hand was outstretched and wrapped around hers.
Had he . . . why was he sleeping there? And holding her hand?
Shoot.
Had she had more nightmares? She couldn’t remember.
Poor Hack. She watched him for a long moment, but she really needed to pee. Slipping her hand from his, she managed to get out of bed. He must have been exhausted because he didn’t stir.
After using the bathroom, she grabbed her sketch pad and climbed back into bed. She was itching to sketch him. And when he was relaxed, like this, it was a perfect time.