In his room.
With the door closed.
Wait.
How did I get here?
I felt suddenly winded, like I couldn’t catch my breath, and I couldn’t quite pinpoint why. On the one hand, this was how several of my amorous nighttime fantasies started: Abram, a room with a bed, us alone, many sexually explicit moments to follow.
On the other hand, I didn’t feel particularly amorous at present.
I felt cold. My palms were clammy. A river of disquiet rushed down my spine. Instead of focusing on Abram, my eyes saw only a big man standing in front of a closed door, two barriers between me and the hall.
In the next moment, I sensed him move and I recoiled, stumbling backward and reaching for . . . something.
He stopped moving.
We stood in silence for another few seconds. I assumed he was looking at me, but I was too busy chasing the abruptly worn threads of lucidity, telling my galloping heart to chill out, and blinking against the loss of focus caused by adrenaline.
This is Abram. You are perfectly safe. He would never hurt you.
Before I could discover where my wits had scattered, and why, Abram opened the door again and stepped to the side.
Clearing his throat, he backed even further away. “You said there’s a study on the second floor?”
“Yes.” I breathed the word, a burst of wary relief radiating outward from my stomach to my fingertips at the sight of the hallway.
“Okay. Let’s go there.” Abram’s voice was soft, even, calm, and he came back into focus for me.
I was mildly surprised to discover he was now leaning against the wall farthest from the door, his arms crossed, and he was watching me with a strange kind of intensity that felt significant. I couldn’t deconstruct its meaning.
My mind automatically informed me—even though he was much bigger than me, and stronger, and probably fairly fast on his feet—at his present distance from the door, he wouldn’t be able to catch me if I made a run for the exit.
Not that I was going to make a run for the exit.
Because making a run for the exit would be silly.
“Lead the way,” Abram said, using that same soft voice and not moving from his spot, his gaze still watchful.