Page 26 of The Price of Forever

How safe I’d felt cradled in his arms, crying like a baby. A safety I hadn’t felt in…fuck. Too long to remember. The sad part was I didn’t think I’d ever felt that safe.

I’d never watched someone beat back my tormentors or bullies. Not successfully, anyway. Kaylee had tried, when the foster home assignment was too rough. But it usually just ended up with her getting dragged under, too.

My throat tightened and I rolled onto my side. In the shadows of the room, my gaze landed on the outline of Seven in bed next to me. He was practically an arm’s length away, yet I could feel the heat of him as if we were touching.

Sleep would be impossible. Or maybe I just had to pee?

Definitely needed to try peeing.

I slipped out of bed as quietly as I could, tiptoeing toward the bathroom. I tried to shut the door as quietly as humanly possible—so slowly and carefully that it seemed to take ten minutes to actually accomplish. I turned on one of the backsplash lights, hesitant to jostle myself into daytime mode with too much light and activity. I needed more sleep, dammit. Even if sharing a bed with Seven made that impossible.

I sat on the toilet for a while, trying to pee and failing. I looked at my nails. I rearranged the part of my hair. I inspected my thighs for cellulite. When either ten minutes or an hour had gone by, I gave up and began my silent trek back to bed.

When the door latched, it made a click that reverberated so loudly through the quiet bedroom that I winced.

And then I heard another click.

Seven’s hand was on the Glock and he was rising from the bed.

“Don’t shoot!” I lifted my palms. “I just had to pee.”

Seven dragged his bleary gaze my way, and then dropped the gun. He collapsed back into bed, the dim outline of his bare chest erasing whatever brief panic I’d felt as a mistaken intruder. I couldn’t pry my eyes off him as I made my way around the bed and back to my side. Why didn’t this room have more nightlights? I was desperate for a good look at the man. He was all hard lines—slept with a literal gun in his hand—but he was somehow the safest, softest spot I’d come to know.

And I didn’t even know this guy. Not fully.

I resumed my previous position in bed, my back to Seven, snuggled into endless pillows. But sleep didn’t come. Daylight sure did, though. It crept through the one room-darkening curtain I’d failed to close entirely, giving the room enough of a glow to ensure I didn’t fall back asleep. I sighed, flipping onto my back.

And then I turned onto my other side, facing the wide expanse of Seven’s back.

Goooood morning.

I gobbled up the sight as if it were my first drink of water after a full night’s shift at the club. Cut lines, defined traps, a wonderland of muscle and olive skin. Scars crisscrossed his left shoulder. I admired the precise lines of his fade for what felt like a half hour. When he turned onto his back and slung an arm over the top of his face, I relished the opportunity to see his body from a new angle.

Wiry, dark armpit hair. Finally, blessedly, I saw the biceps that made his button-ups strain at the seams. I squeezed my legs together, my gaze drifting lower. The sheet was pulled over his stomach. But the man had to have perfect abs. With arms like this, it would be illegal not to.

For God’s sake, does this man have abs?

Seven sighed, moving his arm from over his face. He turned his head toward me, peering through one slit eye. “Do you always stare at people while they sleep?”

I was so dumbfounded by the fact that he’d noticed me staring that my mouth flopped open like a fish’s.

“You’re making it impossible to actually stay asleep,” he added.

My brain kicked into gear. “Just trying to figure out where you store all your warmth and good humor.”

A smirk curled at the edge of his mouth as his eyes drifted shut. “You’ll never know.”

I sniffed, turning away from him. “I’m beginning to think you don’t have any at all.”

“Close protection officers aren’t required to have any.” The early morning grit of his voice made my pussy clench. I squeezed my eyes shut. Why was this man so unbearably attractive?

“Then I can call off my search.” I fluffed up the pillow beneath my head, already wanting one more glimpse of his sexy face. All I could think about was how he might feel against my bare skin. Wrapped up in him, beneath the sheets. We were so close, but a world away.

The sheets rustled from his side of the bed. The bathroom door clicked shut a moment later. I looked at his abandoned spot in the bed—searching, but for what, I didn’t know. Part of me wanted to sniff his pillow, but that was fucking weird—too weird even for me. I huffed, throwing back the covers. Might as well get up and start figuring out what came next. I tore open the curtains, letting in the blinding and beautiful morning. I actually gasped at the view of Central Park through the windows.

I’d never seen the park from this angle, in all my years living in the city. While I knew that Central Park was technically large, seeing it from this high made it seem like a sprawling jungle. The canopy of trees ranged from dark green to vibrant yellow, orange and rusty brown in various shades of autumnal glory.

The bathroom door opened and I turned to face Seven. I don’t know what I was expecting. Fully clothed, gun in holster, regularly scheduled programming? I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.

---