Page 11 of A Lifetime of Afters
Greedily, my eyes took in the master bedroom. Pure masculinity. Functional. Large. Warm. Comforting. The heavy wooden bedframe hosted a traditional buffalo plaid duvet so thick it threatened to swallow me whole.
How I imagined sleeping under something like that with him. Laughing and loving between the sheets. Someday adding children into the mix.
My chin fell to my chest. My walls wobbled. I mentally shook myself. I needed to get warm, get rest, and get the hell out of there.
I prayed his spare bed boasted a similar duvet. The bath had not eased the cold in my bones, and I didn’t foresee ever being warm again. Turning to the door, I moved to seek out the guest room. I could forego the flannel if I could just get under the covers.
“Where are you going?” he asked sharply.
Irritation at his tone warred with fatigue and sorrow over my predicament.
Irritation won.
Looking over my shoulder, I pinned him with my gaze and replied tightly. “I’m going to the guest bedroom. After I get dressed, I’ll get Bruce and bring him in with me and get us both out of your hair until we can go home tomorrow.”
His breath came out in a sigh that deepened into a growl of my name. “Noelle. There are no guest bedrooms. Just empty bedrooms. You’re sleeping in my bed. I’m sleeping on the couch. And I’ll get your damn cat and settle him after you’re warmed up.”
With that, he tossed a pair of his pajamas on the bed and stalked out the door.
Pushing my arms into the long sleeves of his shirt enabled me to drop the damp towel. My shaking limbs barely managed to pull on the pants. The buttons on the shirt were well beyond the capabilities of my unsteady fingers.
There was no help for it but to climb into the bed. In any case, I wouldn’t see him until morning.
Over and over, I assured myself I’d be warm soon. But as the minutes passed, the bed fairly vibrated with the quakes overtaking my body.
“You’re still cold.”
“I’ll be okay. Just going to take time.”
“You need skin-to-skin,” he stated.
“I’m not stripping naked, Hawkley,” I retorted.
I could hear the grin in his voice when he replied, “I’ve seen you naked plenty of times.”
I peeked at him over the covers and snorted. “Not since I got breasts.”
He grinned and held up a finger. “Once. Once, after you got breasts, I saw you naked.”
“What? When?”
I had amazing breasts. In fact, on par with my hair, they were my best feature. If he’d seen my breasts and still had no interest, he’d never want me.
The reminder of his rejection, in addition to all I’d lost over the previous months, cracked the shell holding my tender heart together.
Silent tears.
Tired tears.
Hopeless tears.
I didn’t even try to hide my face. The shame of his rejection, complete.
“Fuck.” Hawk wrapped his arms around me and pulled me out from under the covers. Softly, his voice as sweet as it was commanding, he gruffed, “I’m sorry, Noelle. I’m an asshole. Please. Work with me here. Strip down and climb into bed. I promise not to speak. I’ll just cuddle you until you stop shaking.”
To be held. It had been months. But to be held by him? Could I take it? Knowing it was a one off?
How could I not?
