Page 88 of The Wrecked One

“No arguing.”

He let me go and walked back a few steps, sporting a full-blown erection that needed to be handled. And why wasn’t he going to let me help? I held his gaze, just as stubborn in my desire to help him as he was in helping me.

“Bed. Now.”

“Grunting words again, I see.”

“Please, I want you to go to sleep.”

“And I want to get you off.” Why was he pumping the brakes on this so fast, dang it?

He adjusted himself. Well, he tried, but his dick didn’t obey. Grumbling under his breath, he waved me off and pleaded, “Please, Mya. I should never have . . . in the tub, either, and I shouldn’t now.”

“Shouldn’t, or don’t want to?” There was a difference. No meant no from a guy the same as it did when a woman said it, but if he was rejecting me because he felt he didn’t deserve a peaceful moment himself, then?—

“Bed.” Not exactly an answer, but at the same time, it was for him.

My heart shriveled at the torn look in his eyes. He really did believe he was unworthy of being loved.

It wasn’t only because he’d been forced to take a man’s life, but it was the culmination of everything he’d been through. I could see it clearly now, particularly after witnessing his confrontation with his father. He’d felt abandoned by his dad. Alone.

He raised his hand between us, expecting me to fight him. And I was. I was ready to use everything I had in me to help him understand he was deserving of everything and then some. Including forgiveness he felt he needed but couldn’t have—for whatever happened before, during, and after Thailand.

“I can’t do this with you anymore.” The pain in his voice was a knife to my soul. “When I’m around you, I forget everything. I forget I’m hurting, that I’m supposed to be angry and guilty. You make it too easy for me to feel . . . and it’s just so effortless to slip back to . . .”

His jarring fragmented fill-in-the-blank statements were about to send me over the edge, hurting for him. For everything he’d been through.

“I forget it all because I become so wrapped up in you and how you make me feel.”

I couldn’t help but whisper, “And how do I make you feel?”

“Not broken.” His shoulders fell. “Not fucked beyond repair. Not wrecked.” His head dropped, and I lost his eyes when he added, “Not alone.”

34

MYA

“I got you. It’s okay. It’s just a dream.”

Oliver’s voice registered in my ears, halting me in my tracks and pulling me free from the nightmare. More running. Definitely a memory. And just like when I was younger, I didn’t know who I was running from, or where I was going.

“Was this your plan to get me in bed with you?” Smart man. His teasing got me out of my head.

Light streamed in through the partially drawn blinds. Morning already? As my senses keyed in on my location, the dream faded and reality settled in. I was straddling Oliver on the bed, arms draped over his shoulders.

Nearly nose to nose, he explained, “You climbed on top of me. Asked me to save you.”

Right. He never joined me in bed last night, shut down any further conversation after his painful admission to me about his feelings. Then, he slept in the chair, doubtfully well. Knowing he’d abandoned his own self-imposed distance to rescue me from my nightmare sent tingles down my spine.

“Sorry.” But I didn’t budge, too comforted by being in his arms. “How’d you sleep? And don’t lie to me.”

“In that case, like shit.” A smile ghosted his lips. An oops-I-didn’t-mean-to-react-like-that one.

Him wishing he hadn’t smiled would upset me if I didn’t understand him so well now. Grief and trauma took its toll, and you couldn’t simply snap your fingers and make it go away. He needed time to heal, and I’d be patient and give it to him. But I also wouldn’t accept “no” to him being able to heal, either.

He closed one eye, and when I felt him growing hard beneath me, and probably trying to will his dick down, I behaved and climbed off.

I winced when I bit the inside of my cheek while getting settled next to him. “I’m sorry if I was pushy last night.”

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