Page 84 of That Time I Kissed My Beachfront Boss

Chapter Thirty-Two

Hudson

I lie awake for hours, listening to the rain outside my window. As tired as I am, my eyes remain half open, ears on high alert. Then off alert. Then on again.

In this delirious state, I’m convinced I can hear Olivia breathing in bed beside me, regardless of the wall between us. And not just any wall. Good old Mac McCoy had his crew construct this wing from the ground up. I’m positive they made the building super-solid, long before the walls became the only thing separating me from Mac’s little sister.

Forcing my eyes shut, I try to banish thoughts of her dreaming away next door … in my cut-off sweats, with her soft blonde hair spread across the pillows, and her sweet lips parted in sleep. Sometime, long after midnight, I must drift off into a fitful rest. At least I think I did. Until a sound wakes me, and I bolt upright.

Was it a scream?

A loud moan?

I’m still groggy and not quite sure what I heard, when another sound of distress erupts through the wall.

Olivia!

In a flash, I’m out of bed, out of the room in front of her door. Under any other circumstance, I’d be cautious. Knock and wait for permission to enter. But my heart’s in my throat now, and I’m probably half asleep, and not thinking clearly. I just need to get to her now to make sure she’s okay.

Throwing open the door, I blink to let my eyes adjust. The space is empty except for the shape of Olivia’s body under a rise of blanket and quilt. A nightlight just above the baseboards is switched on, and a soft glow illuminates the bed. She’s asleep there. Safe and sound. It was just a dream.

She’s fine, Hudson.

I’m about to creep back out of the room, but a low whimper slips out of her. Then a slender arm thrashes loose outside the covers. She cries out again.

Nightmare.

I cross the room and drop to my knees beside her bed. “Shhh,” I whisper, “Shhh,” gently stroking her smooth arm. “You’re okay, Liv. It’s all right.” When I reach up to brush her hair back from her face, her skin is hot. With fever? With fear? The pile of blankets might be too warm for her.

She groans again, a low mumbling. The words are unintelligible. Something about an attic. And she’s stuck inside. Alone.

“I’m here,” I say softly, lowering my mouth to speak directly into her ear. She rolls over, face inches from mine. Her eyes are wide, but not seeing.

Is Olivia a sleepwalker? I have no idea. And I’m not about to call Mac to ask him. I dig into the recesses of my foggy brain trying to remember how to deal with someone having a nightmare.

Should I wake her? Would that be too jarring? Am I better off letting the dream play itself out, just making sure she can’t harm herself?

Her environment is secure. And I’m here by her side.

I’m also not about to leave her alone like this.

So I climb into bed next to her, wrapping my arm around her. She’s fully covered with quilts. I’m not taking advantage. But honestly, I’m past caring. All I want is for her subconscious, dreaming mind to slip back into safety. I want her to know I’d never let anything bad happen to her.

There’s a stirring in me to protect this woman. An ache behind my ribs that says I never want her out of my sight. That I’m meant to be her man, slaying all the figurative dragons in her nightmares. Unlocking all the doors and sitting with her in any tower so she won’t have to be alone.

“You never have to be alone,” I whisper into the darkness, and Olivia inches backward, snuggling even more deeply into the crescent of space between us. My heart stutters at her sleepy instincts, and I curve my body around hers, keeping her close to me and safe, all the while being careful not to cross the line. There are blankets between us, but not much else. In any case it doesn’t matter. Right now, my soul is only worried about her soul, and my connection to her feels far stronger than physical.

Lifting my one free hand, I gently caress the loose tendrils of her hair. Then my palm moves lower, tracing the lines of her smooth neck, and over the swell of her soft shoulder.

“I won’t leave you, Liv,” I repeat, over and over into the quiet of the night. “I’ll never leave,” I whisper once more. “Please stay with me, too.”

When my hand finally reaches hers after its slow trail downward, she entwines our fingers, increasing the pressure until she’s holding on to me fast and tight.

She’s still asleep—at least I think she is—but she’s clinging to my hand anyway. Olivia can cling to me as long as she wants for all I care. While we lie together fitted like two spoons in a drawer, I match my breathing to hers, clocking the pace, waiting for the rapid inhale and exhale to slow.

As the new silence folds in around us, it doesn’t take long for her to settle.

Eventually my pulse settles too, the beat of my heart absorbing Olivia’s rhythm.

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