Page 54 of His Greatest Treasure

I peelmy eyes open and blink over and over again until I can make out the shapes on the TV. It’s silent, the screen too bright in the darkness of the . . . living room. I’m in the living room. And it’s hot despite the fact I know I had the AC on earlier.

With my left arm, I swipe a hand over the couch cushion beside me and find the TV remote. I turn off the screen and stop squinting when the blinding light disappears, and my eyes stop burning.

I swallow to wet my throat and try to spread my legs before freezing, feeling a weight on them that wasn’t there earlier. Or I don’t think it was. Fuck, I don’t remember anything after the fifth episode ofSurvivor.

My heart stalls in my chest when I look down at my lap. Avery’s head rests over my thighs, her blonde hair splayed over my jeans, the colour light enough to be obvious in the dark.

My hand rests on her hip.Her bare hip.The thin pajama top has ridden up high, leaving her stomach exposed. It’s too dark to see too much, but she’s hot to the touch, the heat from her body making my neck slick with sweat.

“Avery?” I whisper, needing to know if she’s asleep or awakeand too scared to move. She doesn’t answer, so I try again. “Princess?”

Silence.

I drop my head back and flex my fingers, straining to keep myself from touching any more of her. She’s asleep, and I shouldn’t even be touching her hip without her permission. But Christ, I don’t want to pull my hand away.

We can’t stay here like this, but the thought of waking her unsettles me. She needs to sleep. I don’t know if she has problems doing so at home, and I don’t care to know for sure. All I do know is that she has bags under her eyes that tell me she needs the rest, and I’m going to make sure she gets it, even if she wakes in the morning and kicks my ass for what I’m about to do.

With my breath stuck in my throat, I slip out from beneath her and wait for her head to touch the cushions before dropping to a crouch along the edge of the couch.

Peaceful is the term that comes to mind when I look at her, seeing her face for the first time since we fell asleep. Her lips are parted slightly as her eyes remain closed, features completely relaxed. For now, she’s free of the heavy load of responsibilities that will weigh her down come morning.

It’s easy to scoop her up and carry her up the stairs. She’s light in my arms, her head resting against my chest and legs swinging in the air with every step I take. Climbing every stair carefully, I manage not to trip in the dark. I carry her into my bedroom and gently set her on the mattress, making sure there’s a pillow beneath her head.

The comforter is tucked beneath the pillows, so I leave it and grab a spare blanket from the linen closet in the hallway instead. She doesn’t move a muscle as I drape it over her and tuck it beneath her feet before hovering at the edge of the bed, unable to walk away.

I know she’d call me out on being a creep for the way I’m watching her, like she’s something I want to protect from theworld. I wouldn’t disagree with her either. It is creepy, but I don’t care.

Leaning down, I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear before brushing a few others from her forehead. The worry lines that tend to crinkle between her brows are gone, and I brush my thumb over the smooth skin there before dropping my hand.

She moans a beat later, burrowing her cheek into the pillow before cracking an eyelid open. When she sees me, she doesn’t freak out like I expected. A second eye opens as her hand reaches out, and she grips my wrist, tugging at it.

“Did you carry me to your bed?” she whispers.

With a jerk of my head, I say, “I was leaving. You’re safe here.”

“I know.” Her eyes close, but her fingers remain locked around my wrist. “Sleep beside me.”

“I’ll sleep on the pullout in the spare room.”

She cracks an eye open again just long enough to get another group of words out. “Sleep in the bed with me. It’s been a long time since I’ve slept beside someone.”

“Me too.”

“Don’t think about it so much. Just get in.”

Don’t think about it so much?Fuck, this woman is going to drive me to an early grave.

“Are you sure? I didn’t take you up here for this. I’m fine on the?—”

“Don’t make me get up and shove you into bed.Lägg dig ner med mig, butternalle.”

“What does that mean?”

She pushes her hand beneath the pillow. “Please, Oliver.”

“One day, you’ll tell me what you’ve been calling me.”

I leave her there and move to the opposite side of the bed before pulling my shirt off and stepping out of my jeans. She stays on her side, facing away from me as I lie on the bed, tucking my arm beneath my head and staring at the ceiling.

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