Page 24 of One Night With You

My eyes shot open at Kingston’s voice, and I realized that he was holding me, squeezing my arms to wake me up.

The echoes of my screams reverberated in my ears, and I realized I had been screaming. My throat was raw, and I swallowed hard, looking up at him.

“I screamed in your face,” I muttered, my voice breaking.

“It’s okay. I probably deserved it.”

“I screamed in your face,” I repeated, this time my voice slightly lower.

Kingston stared at me for an instant before giving me a slight nod and pushing my hair back from my face. Everything felt sticky, as if I were covered in sweat, but I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

Not with the memory of those dreams still flowing through my veins, and not with Kingston holding me.

“You’re okay now. I’ve got you. I’ve got you, Claire.”

There was such a strength in his words, and I wanted to believe him. With every ounce of my soul I wanted to believe him.

“I’m sorry. I don’t usually have that many nightmares anymore.”

Not quite a lie. Usually the dreams I couldn’t wake up from. And then I would finally turn in my sleep and find a different dream. One a little sweeter, one possibly of Kingston himself.

And that’s when I realized that I lay naked in his arms, my breasts pressed to his chest, and he was holding me.

“I can feel your heartbeat,” I whispered, wondering why that was the first thing that came to mind. My hand was on his chest, over the slight hair there, and the defined pecs I knew came from hours of working out and keeping his body toned for his job. He was all strength and muscle and part of me wanted to lean into that, to believe that it was safe.

And yet, I wasn’t sure I was allowed to.

I could not believe that I’d slept with Kingston Montgomery. And now he was holding me, both of us naked, and I’d had a bad dream in front of him.

“How often do you have these nightmares?” he asked, still playing with my hair. I didn’t move my hand, the other one off to the side so I wouldn’t be tempted to touch him.

At some point during the night Kingston had moved us to his bed. Not mine, not to another bed, buthis. We had fallen asleep on top of each other on the couch afterwe had had the hottest sex of my life. My thighs were still sore from the way he had held onto me, pounding into me from below me. It had been the single most erotic moment of my life, and I knew that no matter how many nightmares I had, perhaps just that moment with him would be enough to push some of those scary thoughts away.

Not all of them, as was evident by my nightmare, but some.

And that had to be enough.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kingston asked, and I pulled myself from staring at his square jawline and back up to those dark blue eyes of his. I could only see the shadows of them because of the skylight that was now illuminated thanks to the moon bouncing off the fallen snow. He was far too beautiful for his own good.

“You know what it was about. You were there.”

He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to mine. For a moment, shame coated me. Because he had been there. He had held my body as I was bleeding out and pressed onto my wound so sharp pain had stuck its jagged claws through me. And I had survived, wondering if his gaze would be the last thing I saw.

So I looked into those eyes again, and reminded myself I was here.

“I wish we had been there sooner. I hated that we weren’t. And that’s such a paltry thing to say.”

In that instant I realized I wasn’t the only one holding shame here. Perhaps it was because we were already baring all, I felt the courage to reach out and slide my hand through his hair.

“You came. There was nothing you could have done.”

“You can say that after the fact. But not so much during. It’s not about me, anyway. This is about you.”

Kingston sat up then, and I felt the loss of his touch, his heat. But then he did the most interesting thing and pulled me onto his lap. His very hard and thick cock pressed against my backside, but we both were determined to ignore it in that instant. I hadn’t even realized I was still shaking from the dreams, and he held me close, running his hands up and down my sides.

When I didn’t say anything, he let out a low breath. “I remember running up the stairs, trying my best to get there in time. I’ve never actually seen Kane run that fast.”

“He ran for Phoebe.” It wasn’t a complaint. In fact, it brought warmth to my heart that Phoebe was so loved—so cared for.

---