Page 27 of Embrace Me Forever

I light the fireplace, and she settles into a chair, extending her hands toward the flames, rotating her palms. Her gaze occasionally drifts back to Poppy, still clearly intrigued by my unconventional pet.

“Please don’t get any ideas about reprogramming her,” I caution.

Her lips curve up. “Now, there’s a thought!”

I offer her a mock-stern look before softening. “Feel free to take a shower, or a bath if you want. I mean, a warm one, not a polar plunge,” I add with a wink.

She chuckles, her eyes looking a little brighter. “Maybe later,” she sighs. “For now, just…just stay with me.”

I pull up a chair beside her. “I’m not going anywhere, and this house is safe.”

She presses her lips, considering my words. “In that case, I’ll have that shower then.”

“Good idea.” I offer her my hand, helping her up from the chair. With a light hand on her back, I guide her upstairs. Though my pants are reasonably dry now, thanks to the car heater, my soaked underwear feels like a pair of cheap swimming trunks. Maybe I need that shower as badly as she does.

Georgia-May stays close as I stride ahead of her.

“I’ll put your things in this room,” I gesture at the open door of the guest bedroom next to the bathroom.

“Thanks.”

“Towels, soap, and shampoo are inside. Just yell if you need anything else.”

I watch her disappear into the bathroom. This might be the beginning of something deeper, a connection forged in the fires of danger and, ironically, mistrust. We’ve crossed a line we cannever retreat from. She won’t be hiding anymore. I won’t allow it. Tonight, she will reveal her true self. My guard will stay up, but just this time, I’ll let my skeptical edge slip for her.

9

GEORGIA-MAY

The shower gradually scours away the remnants of tonight’s horrors. Steam swirls around me, forming a cocoon. But it’s knowing Blake is nearby that finally allows me to unwind.

As the water cascades down, I can’t help but notice the bruises on my legs and arms, remnants of the men’s attempts to break me. The option to give them the password crossed my mind, but I know Bertram wouldn’t simply release me after gaining access to that sensitive folder.

I tilt my head back and let the water pummel my face, the force of it washing away the lingering fear. The only thing that can distract me from my ordeal is what Blake has done. When he stripped me of my clothes in that motel room, I briefly dreaded that he, too, was on the verge of assaulting me. But that fear dissipated instantly. Naked and vulnerable, my trust in him grew exponentially, and I have never looked back since.

After finishing the shower, I notice a thick robe draped on the bed. Blake must’ve put it there. Its plush material looks inviting, so I wrap myself in it over the pajamas.

I stride toward the stairs, pausing for a moment to peer into what must be Blake’s room, the door left tantalizingly ajar. Theglimpse of his neatly made bed sparks a wild and daring thought—perhaps I could curl up there tonight. My body cries out from exhaustion and fear, the temptation to sleep beside the man who’s become my protector in the moonlit hours amplifies. But then it crushes me because I know it can never happen.

Downstairs, Blake is fussing in the kitchen. At his side, Poppy, the robot dog, keeps a dutiful watch, her metallic frame contrasting sharply with the warm kitchen hues. I look around, observing the absence of any houseplants. So he meant it when he said he’s not exactly a nurturer of the living, but he sure knows how to sustain a spark in me.

Resolved to join him, I head down. He’s shed the formality of earlier, now clad in a T-shirt and cargo pants that mold to his frame, revealing the relaxed yet unmistakably dashing contours of his physique. The fabric of his shirt stretches taut across his broad shoulders and sculpted chest, hinting at the strength beneath. It’s a view that fortifies his allure, rendering him utterly irresistible.

“Tea?” he offers.

“Yes, please.”

He hands me a steaming cup of green tea, and we settle into the living room, the crackling of a fire burning adding to the ambiance. Poppy follows him around until he commands, “Poppy, bed!” Like before, the metal dog obediently heads to her spot and lies down.

Blake takes the single armchair, leaving me the entire three-seater sofa. Blake’s posture is relaxed yet attentive, his gray eyes, touched by the flickering light from the flames, never straying far from mine.

I take a sip, the subtle, grassy flavor of the tea soothing my throat.

“Ms. Williams,” Blake begins, his tone so serious that I set my cup down, bracing myself for the inevitable interrogation.

“Didn’t I ask you to call me Georgia-May?”

He dips his head as if pondering whether he’d agreed. “You did. Well, Georgia-May, let me explain. I’m not a chauffeur. I’m the man Rob and Clayton turn to when—what can I say—things are uncertain.”

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