Page 65 of Hidden While In Sight

“He never would have stopped,” she choked out, gripping him even tighter.

Ashford was such a fucking prick. Diego held her through her reaction and felt relieved as her breathing eventually calmed.

He’d gone limp and soft. Her fear and tears did that to him.

When she lifted her face, the tightened blankness was trying to slide into place. “I’m—”

“Don’t you fucking apologize to me.”

She flinched at his tone, and he cursed himself. He cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb over the side of her mouth.

“You did nothing wrong,” he told her more gently. He was proud of her actually. He’d only heard her tell Ashford to stop once, and it hadn’t been about herself but about the ripping pages of her Bible.

His arm slid into place beneath her legs, the other under her back, but he didn’t tighten to lift her yet. “Can I carry you to the shower like I should have last night?”

Hannah nodded, curling her arms around his neck and easing the lump that had taken over his throat.

Diego’s invitation into the bedtime routine remained in place. He was almost as obsessed with Hannah’s kids as he was with Hannah. Emma made it easy, but Connor, well, he was old enough and had experienced enough to learn not to trust easily. Diego understood and was happy with the little things, like a small smile, a shared glance during a cartoon, and especially when the boy asked for more food. He loved to see Connor eat, really eat.

Hannah was nervous exiting the kids’ room the next night. Her fingers flexed at her side instead of reaching for him. Her eyes lifted, but there was no desire in them, only nerves.

Diego leaned forward, hating the way she stilled, but he brushed the unbroken corner of her mouth with his lips in a gentle kiss anyway.

“I need to watch the monitors,” he told her. “Sleep well.”

It was simpler to turn away than he’d thought it’d be.

Diego didn’t want Hannah to approach him out of obligation or nerves. He just wanted her, in whatever way that looked like, but especially the smiling and content version he’d seen.

A sliver of doubt crawled inside him while he sat in front of the screens. He didn’t mind giving her space, but he worried that leaving his sexual misstep as the last intimate moment between them would make the memory build and twist in her mind.

He put his headphones on and listened to the nothingness of a stranger’s house until he grew drowsy.

Sensation tingled along his skin. That always happened when Hannah entered the room. It was as if he felt the pressure of the air change from her presence.

His eyes shifted to watch her cross to him. She was wearing one of those little nighties, the kind that he’d first touched her under, but also the kind her husband had often raped her in.

He wanted to rip it off her. He’d ask Ramiro to replace it on the next supply run. Hannah needed something soft and comfortable, like the loungewear she’d taken to wearing the most.

Hannah was within reach. He could grab her and haul her against him, take her mouth, make the world disappear for her.

Diego waited.

Hannah’s hand lifted, caressing his cheek.

He swiveled toward her to give her more room, and she shocked him by crawling onto his lap.

She didn’t straddle him. He wanted her, he always wanted her, but he didn’t hate the way she curled her legs up and settled her head against him instead. Besides what she was wearing, there was nothing sex-focused about her.

His arms slid around to hold her, and he bent his head to rub his cheek against her hair, loving the silky feel of it. He cuddled her against him for long, drawn-out moments. The act filled him in ways that emptying himself inside her didn’t even do. His chest fucking ached as his throat closed. He wished he could meld this woman into his body.

All he could do was continue to hold her.

Hannah’s voice was drowsy when it wrapped around him. “Come to bed?” she asked.

He stood with her in his arms. He may not have been the muscle-bound enforcer type his friends were, but he could still carry his woman to bed.

She burrowed into his arms, facing him. The brush of her lips against his neck was more than enough of a gift to have, that and her body relaxing against him in sleep.

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