Page 31 of Jacques

Jacques stood for a moment longer, and then sighed. “Good night, Danny. I hope you sleep well.”

He turned and was halfway to the bedroom door when Danny called out, “Jacques.”

“Yes?”

“Would you mind...” she started. Then she raised her gaze to connect with his. “Would you mind sitting with me until I go to sleep?”

“I don’t mind at all,” he said and crossed the room.

Danny moved over, making room for him.

Jacques sat at the opposite end of the sofa and leaned back, stretching his long, bare legs out in front of him. “Do you want to talk about anything?”

“No,” Danny said and passed him the other end of the blanket.

For a long moment, silence stretched between them.

Danny curled up on her end of the sofa and laid her head on the pillow he’d sacrificed for her. “Jacques?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

She drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering. “For making me feel safe, and for seeing me at my worst and not running the other direction.”

He didn’t reply but reached out a hand.

Danny slipped hers into it, his warmth spreading through her as she closed her eyes.

Tonight she was safe with Jacques. She’d deal with tomorrow in the morning.

CHAPTER 8

Jacques barely slept through the night, his ears straining to hear every little sound.

After Danny fell asleep on the sofa, holding his hand, he remained with her, reluctant to release his hold.

Her fingers were slim, yet strong and warm. Several times they curled into his palm as she responded to whatever dream or nightmare she experienced on the other side of consciousness.

A fire of anger burned inside Jacques at the thought of the man who’d done what he had to Danny. No man had the right to take what he had without consent. That he’d drugged her to get what he’d wanted only proved he was a coward and a monster.

Past midnight, Jacques rose from the sofa, tucked the blanket around Danny and bent low over her soft face, the urge to press his lips to her forehead so strong he nearly did.

Consent.

He realized that even kissing her while she slept violated her. She hadn’t given her consent.

“Sweet dreams, Danny,” he whispered, his breath stirring the wisps of hair lying across her cheek.

For such a strong, independent woman to be broken by the act of one man was criminal. The bastard who’d done it deserved to rot in jail.

Jacques would have stayed with her all night but realized she might not be pleased to find him there when she woke in the morning.

Again...consent.

He finally left his bed when the gray light of pending dawn crept through his window. He dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and padded barefoot past the sofa to the kitchenette.