Pull You In (Rivers Brothers Book 3), стр. 52
"Not hiding," I insisted, shifting to the side so he could climb in with me, feeling a delicious ache in my inner thighs. "Just cold," I told him.
"Let's see what I can do about that," he offered, hooking an arm around me, yanking me up onto his chest, his warmth sending a shiver through me. "Better?" he asked when I settled, his warmth on my front, the heavy comforter on my back. It was pure heaven, truth be told.
"Perfect," I told him, because it was, because I didn't care if he knew I felt that way.
"Good," he said, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "How's your head?" he asked, tone light, teasing, even. "Might have knocked it around more than I intended to," he added.
"Well, I owe the author of that book a debt of gratitude for the headboard idea. I'd probably have a concussion if not for her," I said back, teasing, happy. God, yes, happy. That was the warm sensation blooming across my chest. It had been so long since I felt it that I almost didn't recognize it when it showed back up. But there it was. Strong. Undeniable.
A chuckle moved through Rush and into me as his fingers started to absentmindedly touch me—one stroking up and down my spine, the other my arm. "I meant for that to be nice and sweet," he admitted. "It's not my fault you like my dick too much for that," he added, hand landing a weak slap to my ass.
I didn't like being teased. It had always been a triggering point for my anxiety. Especially with men.
But, somehow, I felt myself smiling at Rush's words.
Because he was safe. Because I knew he would never be cruel, would never use my fears or insecurities against me.
"I should get going," I said a few moments later, feeling a swirling sadness inside at the very idea of untangling myself from him, getting dressed, walking away.
"You're not going anywhere," he told me, arm going around my hips, imprisoning me.
"I have to work tomorrow," I reminded him.
"Fuck work."
"Fiona might not agree with that mindset."
"Fiona set all this in motion. She will have to deal with the consequences of me needing to take you to bed for a week straight until neither of us have any fluids or strength left."
A giggle moved through me at the absurdity of that statement, but it made that warm sensation feel even hotter.
"You have work too."
"Stop making valid points," he demanded, tugging my hair. "We're staying just like this tonight," he added, shrugging. "Maybe we both ended up with food poisoning from dinner," he suggested.
"I just got back from being sick," I reminded him.
"Fiona can't be mad at your terrible immune system," he declared, making another laugh escape me.
"She will know why I called out."
"So what. She'll be busy collecting her money from Mark. She won't be too pissed about it."
"You make some interesting points," I relented. "Not good ones," I added, getting a chuckle out of him, "but I'm too tired to rebut them."
"Good," he declared, giving me a squeeze. "You can use your brain tomorrow," he suggested.
"Sounds like a plan," I agreed.
Normally, the longer I lay there, the more the worries would set in, the to-do list that would keep racking up, but right then, in that moment, my mind miraculously left me alone, allowed me to enjoy the feel of this man, the sensations flooding my body, the possibilities in front of us, with none of the usual fears.
I drifted off to sleep feeling warm and safe, and hopeful.
I'd never felt anything like it with a man before.
And I hoped to be able to hold onto it.
FOURTEEN
Rush
I woke up to a shrieking sound followed by my name being cried out.
Now, normally, that wasn't a bad way to start a morning.
You know, if I was a participant of those sounds.
But I was alone in my bed, the space beside me still warm, but the occupant missing, lost somewhere in the main area of the house where the sounds had come from.
I shot up off the bed, not bothering to find pants, heartbeat already tripping into overdrive at the idea of something having happened to Katie, or someone being in the apartment.
"Oh, for fuck's sake," a familiar voice called as soon as I broke into the opening of the hallway in to the main area.
Atlas.
Half-sitting up on the couch, a spare blanket pooled at his waist, bare from there up.
"Put some fucking pants on, man. No one wants to be seeing that," he added as my gaze slid over to where Katie was standing in the kitchen wearing my shirt from the night before, her hand still clutched to her heart, her half-awake eyes wide.
"Atlas," I told her, watching as understanding came across her face as her gaze slid to my brother, then back to me. She couldn't seem to keep her eyes from roaming over my body, either, even though we had an audience. When her gaze found its way back to my face, her eyes were already heated.
"Oh," she said, shaking her head, trying to shrug off the desire I already saw building. "Sorry. You just... surprised me," she told him, giving him a wobbly smile. "I, we, there wasn't, you know, anyone there last night when we... um... when we got home."
"Aren't you supposed to be in Italy?" I asked.
"Yeah, funny story. They didn't give a shit that I wasn't actually a writer on the writer retreat. But they weren't a fan of me sleeping with the ones who were. Then having them find out. It was all very dramatic. I figured it was time to come home, check in on King, get some