He fell silent.
I stared at his chest.
Then I called, “Chace?”
“Yeah?”
I licked my lips.
Then I said quietly, “Thank you for making that beautiful.”
He said nothing.
Then he rolled into me, pressing a knee between my legs so I was forced to hook one around his hip and both his arms gathered me close and held me tight.
“Sleep, baby,” he whispered and now his voice was quiet but hoarse.
“Okay. ‘Night, honey.”
One of his hands slid up my spine and into my damp hair then it slid through.
And back.
Then he whispered, “’Night, baby.”
His hand slid through my hair.
And again.
Moments later I fell asleep pressed deep and held tight to Chace Keaton.
Chapter Ten
Halfway Gone
Chace’s eyes opened and he blinked away sleep.
The strong Colorado sun was fighting his curtains and, as usual, winning.
Chace felt his body get tight.
Something was wrong.
He stared across the pillows at the empty bed.
He was on his side, one hand shoved under the pillow at his head, his other arm thrown wide.
No Faye.
Instantly, it felt like a hand reached in and gripped his gut in an iron tight fist.
Not a man prone to fanciful thoughts, not one he could recall in his life, it still hit him that the way his life had swirled down the toilet, it wouldn’t be a surprise that the last three weeks had been a dream. A cruel, twisted, dream.
A taste of sweet.
The touch of an angel.
A trace of a miracle.