Page 52 of Eden's Deliverance

He’s right.

It was difficult enough coming to terms with it myself, so I don’t owe him the admission. I liked it way more than I should have, but they’re not supposed to know that. They’re not supposed to know anything about me, but that’s what happens when you let the wrong ones in.

I know I should be doing anything else right now, but I’m too worked up to sleep. I need to speak my mind and get rid of them for good.

No answer.

Thirty minutes pass without any word from him, so I send another text.

With bated breath, I stare at my phone for a whole ten minutes like some crazed teenager. When he still doesn’t reply, I take it as a win.

My bed is small but not entirely uncomfortable; it’s just a reminder of the girl it was once meant for. She was full of hopes and dreams, and hadn’t been hurt by a boy yet—so ignorant of the brutality in the real world.

I’ve only just settled in and closed my eyes when my phone vibrates.

I know he’s bluffing—just like I was. I may have been lying about calling the cops, but I meant what I said about being done with them. It’s all just a fucking game to him and a way to keep me in check.

My birthday ended with traumatic self-discovery and a life-threatening orgasm that forced me to question my hard limits. But this?

NowI’m paranoid at three in the morning, putting on pants to walk downstairs and do the unimaginable. The room is dark when I open the door, and the scent of sex hangs fresh in the air.

“Skylar?” The same playlist from earlier is flowing softly through the speaker on his desk, but it’s barely audible over the drum of my beating heart. Creeping to the side of the bed, I hover over his sleeping form. “Skylar?” I call again, reaching out to touch what I think is his shoulder.

I can’t see two inches in front of my face, so when he grabs my wrist and yanks me onto the bed, I scream in surprise.

His groggy voice finally breaks through the silence, “What the fuck are you doing? What time is it?” Despite his shaken demeanor, his hands explore my body like he’s trying to sooth my trembling limbs.

It takes a minute to find the words because I suddenly feel like the world’s biggest pussy, embarrassed to even be here. I could go back to my room, ignore Broody’s idle threats, and get a good night’s sleep before tomorrow’s holiday disfunction.

But I don’t like that he threatened Skylar.

He may be an asshole, but he doesn’t deserve to be targeted by some maniac with unstable emotions—especially not because of me.

“It’s going to sound stupid,” I whisper.

“Just spit it out, Red. I was sleeping, so unless you’re asking for a round two, I’d like to get back to it.” I don’t even think he’s joking, and it makes me blush.

Thank god there’s no lights on in here.

“Would you come sleep with me? I’m sorry, I know it’s dumb…” His hand brushes against my leg, so I throw my knee over his thigh without even thinking about it. “I just don’t wanna be alone right now. We could put on a movie in the living room and sleep on the couches, or I could sleep on your floor. I don’t care.”

He must have night-vision or something, because I can’t see a thing, yet he knows exactly where I am. A thumb runs along my bottom lip, unexpectedly pulling it down to flatten against my teeth.

It’s an odd gesture, but when he says, “You’re not sleeping on the floor…let’s go,” I’m just grateful for his compassion.

After agreeing to have another cigarette before laying down, we head out to the porch to unwind in the chilly night air. He hasn’t asked what’s wrong with me, but I get the sense he knows I don’t want to indulge any more information.

I keep scanning the backyard for signs of Broody, but he hasn’t shown his face. I don’t want to underestimate his threats in case he’s crazier than I realize—I’d prefer to never find out.

Skylar notices my unease and drags me into a protective stance, his arm wrapping around me to pull my back flush against his chest. Truthfully, nothing about this feels awkward or unsettling. It’s not what I’m used to getting from Skylar, but I’d like to think we broke through some boundaries today.

Obviously, there’s the sex thing. But more than that, I feel like we have more solid ground to stand on—an understanding that our mutual hatred was probably just pent-up sexual tension.

Now that we’ve gotten it out of our system, we can act like decent human beings. Maybe we could even be friends.

“Thank you,” I say. It’s not much, especially if I’ve put his life in danger, but it’s what I can give.

His fingers strum lazily across the skin of my shoulder in a metronomic motion, though he doesn’t say anything back. His arm is solid across my chest, every exhale he takes compressing against me in a way that squeezes the anxiety out.

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