Page 40 of Rock

He set it aside, stood, and helped her slide under the covers before fluffing the pillow behind her head. He handed her the two bears.

Lyla rolled onto her side, alleviating the pressure against the back of her head.

“Are you comfortable?”

“Yes, thank you. So tired.” Her voice was growing faint.

He bent and kissed her temple. “I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

She reached out and grabbed his hand. “Don’t sleep in the living room. This is your bed. We’re grown adults. I think we can share a bed and keep our pants on.”

He smirked. “Baby girl, you already don’t have your pants on.”

She rolled her eyes again. “Turn off the lights and get in bed, Rock.”

He chuckled. “Bossy.”

“When it’s necessary, yes.”

He kissed her temple again. “Sleep, Little Lyla.”

She closed her eyes, hugged the two bears against her chest, and took a deep breath. She’d never slept with Rock before. The night they’d spent together hadn’t involved any sleeping. This was new.

She was so very tired, though, and vaguely aware of him moving around the house. She kept expecting the bed to dip next to her, but she drifted off before it happened.

CHAPTER

NINE

Rock did his best not to jostle the mattress much when he joined Lyla. He slid under the covers as carefully as possible, wearing loose cotton shorts and boxer briefs. Neither was keeping him from having a constant hard-on.

He’d turned all the lights off, but his nightlight glowed next to the bedroom door. Remi had put it there after his heart attack because she’d been worried about him falling in the night. He’d left it ever since. He hardly noticed it, but it was providing him enough light to stare at his Little girl now.

His Little girl?

Shit. She was not his. She’d come to Shadowridge to sell her parents’ house. She hadn’t even sought him out. He’d come to her. Would she have done so eventually? He wasn’t sure.

She was here now. In his bed. In his shirt. Hugging the two stuffies he’d given her. It made his chest tight to realize she’d kept that bear for all these years. It brought him to his knees. And now she was lying on her side, curled up around the two bears as though they were tethering her to Earth.

Fuck, she was precious. She didn’t look anywhere near as old as she was. In fact, he felt ancient next to her. Her hair was stillbrown, and he couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and brush it away from her temple.

She was facing him, which gave him the ability to stare at her, but it also meant he couldn’t wrap himself around her and spoon her. He’d dreamed of spooning Lyla most of his life. He’d often regretted that they’d never actually slept together—eyes closed—in his bed. They’d made good use of his bed, but they’d spent every second talking, teasing, fucking, learning each other’s bodies. He hadn’t had the chance to stare at her in her sleep or hold her against his chest.

Her lips were parted, and her face was smoothed out. Now that the painkillers had kicked in, she no longer had stress lines between her brows.

He smiled as he remembered the first time he’d seen her. She’d been awkward and nervous; he’d known it was because she’d also found herself attracted to him. She’d been the most adorable person he’d ever set eyes on. Nothing detracted from his instant attraction—not her braces, her glasses, or her gangly, not-quite-adult body.

Rock had kept his hands and his thoughts to himself for two years. He hadn’t intended to claim her the way he had on her prom night, either. He’d waited for her because he’d wanted to know how her evening had gone, but taking her home with him and deflowering her hadn’t been on his radar.

He’d never regretted a moment of that night, though he suspected she had. Why else would she have disappeared, never to return?

Eventually, he forced himself to relax against the pillow, his gaze still on her, mere inches separating their faces.

Lyla is in my bed.Please, God. Please let this be permanent. I never want to spend another night without her for the rest of my life.

There were so many unknowns. So much to discuss. They had a forty-year hole to fill, but his heart told him he would do anything to work it out and make her his for good.

Should he have tried harder to find her back then? Maybe. The ball had been in her court because she’d had his contact information. He’d had nothing. He’d known which university she attended, but it was on the other side of the country, so what could he have done? Driven there and stood around until she happened to walk by him?

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