Page 31 of Saving Sophia

ETHAN

Sophia needed a Daddy. I was sure of it. Everything about her screamed lost little girl who needed to be cherished, guided, and protected. My need to provide that for her was becoming a physical ache, demanding to be satisfied.

The way her voice hitched and her eyes widened when she was brave enough to look squarely at me, her response to my praise, her adorable attempts at flirting, and her overarching innocence all pointed to a Little side wanting to come out.

But the necklace. I still needed answers on that. She couldn’t possibly have gotten in the predicament I found her in if she was someone’s ‘Little Cutie.’ So then why did she cling to it whenever her eyes clouded with worry?

And that wasn’t the only thing I needed answers for. There were things she wasn’t saying. Things she wasn’t ready to trust me with. There was something more to that attack. Something that drove her to pack up and move to another state with a man she just met. I needed to maintain control, build her trust, and help her deal with whatever she was really running from.

After dinner, she headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed. When she came out, she had on a light pink cotton shirt with little sleeping stars all over it. One shoulder slipped lower than the other and the hem barely reached the top of her thighs. The Ariel Band-Aid on her thigh peeked out from the trim of her matching pajama shorts.

“How’s your leg?” I laid out a pillow on the couch and fluffed one of the blankets Evie left, smoothing it along the cushions.

Her hand brushed hesitantly against that sweet bare skin. “Better.”

“Good.” I patted the couch. “Let’s get you tucked in.”

“Oh,” she said in her smaller, hesitant voice, the one that made me want to scoop her up in my arms and kiss her troubles away.

“Sophia,” I said as she wound her arms tightly around her body in a protective grip and looked down at the floor. I slowly reached out a hand to touch her face, tipped her chin up and tried not to wonder how soft her lips would be. “I want …”

Her eyes were kitten-wide, almost pleading as she stared up at me, her chin in my hand, her body tense.

Don’t push. Give her time.

“I want you to let me know if you need anything.” I let go of her chin and stepped back, picking up another blanket and holding it like a shield between us. She sighed and bent over, rummaging through her bag. She straightened, clutching a Kindle in a case emblazoned with cartoon owls wearing glasses.

When she sat down, leaning against the pillow and curling her legs up beside her, I tucked the blanket around her and crushed down the urge to kiss her forehead, or any other part of her.

“A little reading before bed?” I asked, nodding toward the Kindle.

She puffed a stray strand of hair and nodded. “Is that okay?”

An idea formed in my mind. I rubbed my chin and sat next to her on the couch, careful not to squish her feet. “Would you like me to read to you?” I reached out for the owl-encased Kindle.

She clutched it like a secret diary, sucking in her bottom lip and staring at the screen, some inner conflict playing out on her face. “You don’t have to do that.”

“We don’t want to disrupt your bedtime routine,” I said, tipping my head and giving her a mock-serious eyebrow arch.

She blew out her cheeks, but when I didn’t drop my hand, she slowly handed it to me. “You wouldn’t be interested in the books I like …” A blush of pink spread across her cheeks, and I wondered if I could make her blush in other places.

“Quantum physics?” I quirked my lips and leaned back, pulling her feet casually onto my lap.

She giggled and snuggled down into the blanket, peeking up at me. A longing stirred in my chest, an ache to win her trust and make her mine.

Trust took time. I needed to be patient.

I forced myself to focus on the Kindle. “A Ruthless Choice? Sounds intense. Looks like you’re on chapter five, want to catch me up on what’s happening before we start?”

“Uh, well …” She worried the edge of the blanket between her fingertips, embarrassment and excitement warring on her face.

Excitement won, and she rushed through the recap in one big breath. “The heroine is Ruthie Luddington. She was on a ship headed to an island in the Caribbean to meet Lord Borthwick. He’s awful, but she has to marry him because of her father’s spice empire. But a storm sank the boat she was on and she was lost at sea.”

Her face relaxed as she described the rescue of the drowning maiden by a dashing yet dangerous pirate. It was beautiful to watch.

“This sounds exciting,” I said. “Let’s dive in.”

I started reading, stealing glances now and then at her rapt face as she lost herself in the story. She was exquisite when the near-constant worry she wore faded into the background.

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