Page 25 of Embrace Me Forever

I tear away the remnants of fabric still clinging to her body. A painful moan escapes her lips as she convulses, her hands instinctively reaching to shield her exposed breasts. I allow her this small moment of privacy, yanking a blanket off the tightly made bed and securing it around her trembling form.

Quickly, I help her sit up. “We’ve got to go now.”

I gather all her belongings, shoving them into her suitcase. We’ve got to disappear before those men wake up and any others who might be on their way.

With determination, I lift Georgia-May into my arms. At this point, I wouldn’t blame her if she tried to push me away after all she’s been through. But I cradle her as firmly but impassively as I can, making it clear that my intent is only to protect her.

Her body is light and frail against me. At that moment, she leans into my chest, her breathing shallow but gradually evening out.

“Mr. Blake,” she sighs, barely above a whisper.

“I’ve got you, Ms. Williams,” I assure her, suppressing the fury boiling inside me. Whoever the sick bastard behind this is, how dare they reduce such a vibrant young woman to this trembling shell. I don’t give a damn if she tried to outsmart me or extort money from Hartley Marine. She doesn’t deserve this.

We make our way back to my car, her suitcase dragging along the gravel behind us. She clings to me, refusing to untangle herself when I guide her into the passenger seat as if I were about to let her slip into a gaping void. But she finally releases her grip, and I rewrap the blanket around her since it had shifted during the walk.

“Please. I…I…” Her jaw quivers, stopping her from finishing her sentence. Her face is pale, and her eyes are wide with lingering terror.

I place a palm on her cheek. My hand feels unusually warm against her frigid skin. “We can talk later.”

As I drive off, my eyes constantly flick to the rearview mirror, ensuring no one follows. With the car’s heater on high, her shivering gradually subsides. After a few miles, once certain we’re alone, I pull over to the side of the road. The area is deserted, a perfect spot to check on her without drawing attention.

I head to the trunk and open her suitcase, searching for a change of clothes. I grab a sweater and a pair of jeans and hand them to her, saying, “Put these on.”

Slowly, her hands emerge from the bundled blanket, trembling.

“Do you need any help?” I ask, concerned.

She stammers, “I…I’m fine.”

I leave her to change in peace. Resisting the drag of the whirlpool inside me, I start rummaging through her bag and suitcase, looking for any tracking devices those men might’ve planted. My fingers move quickly, methodically, but I find nothing. There’s one more bag I have yet to search, but I hear Georgia-May struggling with something, most likely her jeans.

“Are you okay there?” I ask before going back to the front.

“Yeah. Just a moment.” She sighs. I can see her legs fluttering out of the passenger seat.

My attention has been on her all this time. Only now do I realize I look like someone who took a dip in the Sacramento River with my whole suit on. I take off my jacket and shirt, replacing them with a spare canvas jacket I keep in the backseat.

“I’m done,” murmurs Georgia-May.

“All right, I’m coming,” I give her a heads up, taking the remaining bag I haven’t searched.

Crouching by the passenger door, I notice her sitting stiffly, her face turned toward me, yet her eyes reluctant to meet mine.

Is she still embarrassed?

Does she want to get rid of me now?

The idea that she might not want anything to do with me is disconcerting. I can’t bear the thought of this being the end of our time together—the end of us.Us. The word feels both wonderful and urgent, even if I can’t fully grasp what it means.

I’m dying to squeeze her hand and offer more comfort, but I maintain my distance. “How are you feeling?” I ask, finally catching her gaze.

As if the gravity of the attack is just sinking in, she breaks down in tears. She puts her arms around me but hesitates to come closer.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you again,” I tell her. My life has been a series of calculated moves, protecting assets, neutralizing threats. But at this moment, her status as foe or friend is irrelevant. My innate impulse to protect leaps to the forefront, overwhelming all else. This is not about duty. This is about being a man, about being the protector she needs right now.

Her demeanor hints at surrender, and it feels almost instinctual for me to pull her into an embrace.

She clings to me, sobbing. “Please.” Her voice cracks with desperation. “Don’t call the police. Don’t tell your bosses.”

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