Hannah struggled to regain her composure. She glanced over at him, his rigid posture unmistakable in the dim lighting. “I should be asking you that.”
He ran his hands over his face roughly. “I sometimes have, uh, nightmares.”
“I heard you from my room, I thought you were sick or I never would have come in here,” she said haltingly, not knowing if he was angry with her.
“God, I never meant to scare you.” He squeezed his eyes shut, before turning to look at her. Hannah felt her heart jolt unexpectedly at the softness in his voice. He wasn’t angry at all. He wasn’t the same man in front of the fire yelling at her to go home. She looked into his eyes and saw how soft and warm they could be. She noticed the shape of his lips. They were sensual, perfectly shaped. He had turned on his side so that he faced her completely. She was still on her back, there was no way she’d turn too… it was too… intimate.
When she lifted her eyes to meet his she saw that he was still looking at her. She remembered he had asked her if he had scared her. “You didn’t. I’m not afraid of you,” she finally answered, her voice sounding strange to her ears. “Besides,” she said, forcing herself to sound flippant, “I’ve taken lots of self defense classes. I could have tossed you to the ground with one foot if I needed to.”
The sound of Jackson’s deep laughter filled the room and made her smile involuntarily in the darkness. He had a rich and deep laugh. She didn’t want to notice that either.
“I’ll be sure to remember that,” he said, the smile still in his voice.
They were whispering in the darkness. The intimacy of the situation was not lost on her. His body was so close that she could feel the warmth emanating from him. She could smell his soap combined with his own masculine scent, and she found herself responding to him in a way that was anything but platonic. And that was not a good idea. She frowned down at her clothes. Both of them were wearing far too little clothing for two people who barely knew each other. She needed to get off the bed pronto.
“You’re sure I didn’t hurt you?”
She nodded frantically as she watched his hands move to gently grasp her wrists. He looked them over. She couldn’t say anything because she had lost her voice. His hands were warm, large, and a delicious, molten heat began swimming through her as he held on. His thumb grazed the soft, velvety underside of her wrist and the innocent touch felt anything but. She quickly slipped her wrists out of his hands, needing her body to not be in contact with his, but she wasn’t prepared for the loss she felt at not having him touch her. Not good. And there was no way she was going to acknowledge the meaning behind the fact that he was the first man she found herself wanting to touch her since… a long time.
“You didn’t hurt me.” Why did her voice have to sound so breathy? She couldn’t break his gaze. The air was warm and like a cocoon, capturing them in a false sense of familiarity. She needed to get out of the room and away from an enticingly half-naked Jackson. Because right now, more than anything, she wanted to reach out to touch his bare skin. She was drawn to him and she shouldn’t have been. As soon as she got back into the safety of her own room she was going to list each despicable trait the man had and then do a personality comparison list to Ebenezer Scrooge. That should sufficiently deal with any sort of misplaced desire she had.
“I’m still sorry.” He braced himself on his forearms, watching her closely. She could make out the lighter shades of cognac in his eyes, and the softness, the warmth was still there. She didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. She should be concentrating on the list.
“It was no big deal.”
“Thank you.”
“For what?” Why had she asked that? Why wasn’t she moving? Get off the darn bed, Hannah.
“For waking me up.” His eyes fell to her lips and she felt a heat bloom from deep within her. Then his gaze wandered up to her eyes and traveled the length of her body. Suddenly she felt like she wore absolutely nothing. She tugged roughly at the T-shirt to cover a little more of her exposed legs. And then he smiled again, a sort of sexy, satisfied grin. The kind that told her he knew exactly why she was so uncomfortable, and that he liked it.
She needed to get out of here. Again, her body wasn’t getting the message her brain was frantically communicating, so she didn’t move.
“Hannah?”
“Yeah?”
“Why did you come here, really?”
She turned to look at him. “Here? Like your room?”