Page 27 of Adoring Fletcher
And then, like a miracle, he relaxed. I felt the tension bleed from his body, his nerves dissolving into sleep. His breath evened out. His fingers curled slightly in my shirt.
And there it was.
This strange, soul-deep feeling ofright. Ofhome.
I wrapped my arms around him and held him close. He had no idea what he was doing to me.
But lying there with him cradled to my chest, I finally understood the one thing I hadn’t been ready to admit.
I wasn’t just falling for him.
I already had.
16
FLETCHER
I was healing,slowly. My ribs still ached when I twisted wrong, and my shoulder lit up with fire if I moved too fast, but it was better than it had been. Adam made sure of that.
He was so gentle.
Too gentle.
Every night, he tucked me in like I was something breakable. Kissed my forehead like the moment was sacred. LikeIwas sacred.
And god, I wanted to believe in it so badly. I wanted to melt into it, let myself pretend that his tenderness meant something more. That maybe I could have the kind of happily-ever-after my foster sister used to whisper about when we curled up under the blankets with her love stories, hiding from the noise and the fists of the world.
But I knew better.
Adam was meant for someone else.
There was a storm brewing inside of me. My skin felt too hot, too tight, like I didn’t quite fit in my body anymore. My thoughts were sluggish and sharp all at once. And that warmth… It wasn’tfrom Adam’s arms around me, even though I was nestled against him like I belonged there.
I didn’t. Not really.
It was early, but I couldn’t sleep anymore. I couldn’t lie still with the ache in my belly growing stronger, with the fantasy in my head getting more dangerous by the second.
In Adam’s arms, I could almost believe I was his mate. That I was safe. Loved.
But reality didn’t care about fantasies.
Adam stirred behind me, the rhythm of his breathing changing. His voice, soft and laced with sleep, murmured, “Fletch? You okay? You’re really flushed.”
I forced a breath. Too fast. Too shallow.
Then his hand was on my forehead, and I winced. His touch was too much. Everything was too much. I squeezed my thighs together and bit back a whine.
“Damn.” He sat up in bed, his tone suddenly heavy with concern. “You’re burning up.” He frowned. “Maybe we should go back to the doctor.”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly.
He didn’t buy it. “It could be an infection?—”
“It’s not.”
Adam sat there beside me, his slim brows furrowed in worry. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. Not when everything inside me was screaming and slick and wanting.
Wantinghim.
