the tiniest flick of a lighter that sets my entire existence on fire. And I shudder, my whole body convulsing like it was a Taser she stuck to me and not just those plush, perfect lips.
Fuck, I growl inside my head, or do I say it aloud? I don’t know. I don’t know anything except the way Astrid feels beneath me.
But as much as I want to latch on to that miniscule unspoken invitation and follow it back to the woman who sent it, I know, know it would ruin every fucking thing I’ve worked so hard to heal inside her. Just when she’s finally opening up. Just when she’s finally asked me to spend time with her. Just when she’s finally not fucking hiding from me.
So, I pray for strength as I reach behind my neck and unwind the death grip she has on me there, kissing the inside of her wrist where her other hand had such a tight lock on it that it left marks. She shudders, and her pussy moves against me, and I have to fight back my own unmanly whimper. I reach behind my lower back and unlock her ankles, and I can’t help giving myself just this one feel of her. Just one. Just the one slow glide of my roughened palm up the outside of her long, smooth leg from her ankle, up her calf, and down her thigh until I reach those tiny pink pajama shorts, where I grip her hip in my big hand. And she shivers.
“I want—” she whispers, but I cut her off. Because if I hear the words, hear her admit it. Hear her ask for it. Beg for it. I won’t be able to say no. I won’t be able to deny her, because I’d never be able to deny her anything.
“Not like this, goddess,” I say low, my voice gravelly as I grasp on to the final thin tendrils of my control. “Not when five minutes ago you were terrified of my touch.” I nuzzle my face into her neck, smelling her intoxicating scent. “I’d give anything to have you, but not like this.” I make sure she knows how much I want her, desire her, so she doesn’t feel rejected. Never, ever rejected.
And then I kiss the underside of her jaw, and with the last bit of strength I have left inside me, I push myself up off her and pull her covers around her, tucking her in.
I look at Scout in the doorway and pat the top of her covers. He follows my wordless order and takes a running leap, settling himself next to her.
“Sweet dreams this time, Ms. Quill,” I tell her, making it sound like an order as I look down at her. She blinks up at me, searching my face, and then she gives me a little nod, throwing her arm over Scout, closing her eyes, and burrowing farther into her pillows.
Chapter 4
Astrid
First thing this morning, I called the gym and asked if they had availability in any of their barre classes for two people to do a trial today. The girl on the phone was super perky and nice, instantly making me more excited to actually get out of the house and try something new and physical, and she signed us up for the 11:00 a.m. class.
When I went downstairs to tell Neil, I found him downing a bottle of water in the kitchen, his chest bare, droplets of sweat running down his torso and being absorbed into the waistband of his black running shorts, having clearly just gotten back from a run. It took everything in me not to either drool or swallow my tongue—he made such a delicious image. Somehow, I managed to let him know about the class, and I could tell he wanted to approach me, to wrap me in his arms and tell me he was so proud of me for getting us set up and for even wanting to go. And half of me wanted that so very badly.
I have never, never in my life felt something so life-altering than being wrapped up in Neil’s arms. His wasn’t just an embrace or a hug. What I feel when he holds me can only be described as a full-on soul connection. I feel it from the very top of my head to the tips of my toes and everywhere in between, including deep down in my gut, my heart, my very essence—truly alive for