Giving In(17)

“I’ll survive,” he said dryly. “I’ve slept in far worse conditions.”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.

He glanced curiously at her, reaching out to touch her chin with his free hand. “What are you sorry for, baby?”

She closed her eyes. “That I’m not brave enough to let you sleep here without the handcuffs. That I’m too much of a coward to refuse your unselfish gesture. I’m the selfish one, Jensen. I’m sorry I’m not as strong as you.”

His expression gentled as he cupped her chin, brushing the pad of his thumb over her jaw.

“It’s a start that you’re even allowing me in your bed, with or without handcuffs. I’ll take that gift, no matter how it’s given.”

She flushed at the promise in his voice. The promise that he’d be there again, that there would be another occasion and that this wasn’t a freak occurrence. No, it wouldn’t happen again. She wouldn’t let it. She’d agreed to this lunacy in a moment of weakness. The weakness she loathed so much. Because she didn’t want to be alone for just one night.

But she wouldn’t allow it again.

“Ready for lights-out?” she asked lightly.

He nodded, his gaze still on her like a warm blanket.

She reached behind her to turn off the lamp and then turned back, snuggling under the covers, trying not to focus on the fact that Jensen was mere inches away. She could hear his soft breathing. Could feel his warmth reaching out to her, enfolding her in its tender embrace.

“Going to get the closet light too?” he asked.

She was glad it wasn’t light enough that he could see her embarrassed flush.

“No,” she said quietly. “I leave it on. I don’t like to sleep in total darkness. Does it bother you?”

“Anything that brings you comfort doesn’t bother me,” he said, further baffling her with his statement.

The man was twisting her in knots. For weeks he’d baited her, annoyed her, pissed her off, and now he was treating her so very gently. As if she was something precious and fragile. She was in way over her head and despite what he’d said about giving her complete control tonight, she felt anything but in control. Her mind—and heart—were in utter chaos. Her head was spinning so fast it was a wonder she could even breathe. No, she definitely was not in control.

Because even handcuffed to her bed, there was little doubt that Jensen was controlling the situation.

It should by all rights terrify her. She should be running as fast and as hard as possible in the opposite direction. But something stopped her. And she didn’t know what. There was a promise of something in his eyes that made her want to find out what. And whether she had any hope of ever moving beyond her past and into the present.

JENSEN woke with a start and cursed viciously under his breath. Kylie was curled into a protective ball on the far edge of the bed. Out of his reach. A low whimper tore out of her throat followed by more sounds of terror.

She sounded like a frightened child. And in many ways she was still that frightened, vulnerable child she’d been while she suffered abuse at her father’s hands.

This was why he’d insisted on staying with her. After her panic attack at the restaurant he’d been certain she’d suffer nightmares, that her past would be hovering on the fringes of her consciousness, just waiting for when she was asleep and vulnerable to attack.

And he couldn’t get to her, helpless to watch as she struggled against invisible monsters. Damn him for insisting on the handcuffs, even if he’d have done anything to make her feel safe. Because now he couldn’t hold her, couldn’t soothe her when she was in the throes of terror.

“Kylie. Baby, wake up. You’re safe. You’re with me. Wake up, baby.”

For a moment she was too firmly entrenched in the grasp of her nightmare to respond to his gentle crooning. Then she came awake with a gasp, sitting upright in bed, eyes wild and enormous in her small face. She looked straight ahead, pulling her knees protectively to her chest, and rocked back and forth.

Then she buried her face in her knees, and he could hear the muffled sounds of her sobs.

It broke his heart. Ripped him right in two. His heart was as shattered as hers, her agony his. Her heartbreak his own. Never had he felt so helpless, so full of despair that this beautiful, fragile woman was still a prisoner of her past.

“Come here, baby,” he said gently, praying she wouldn’t refuse his overture.

To his surprise, she didn’t argue. She turned, nearly diving into his one-armed embrace. Then she reached back to her nightstand for the key to the cuffs, fumbling to unlock them, yanking desperately until he was free.