Page 258 of Branded
He reached for me and, startled, I rocked back on my heels, my breath catching. But he didn’t take me into his arms, didn’t draw me close so that I could steal my sniff.
Instead, he dragged the material over my head.
One second, I was staring at his shirt, at his stomach, at that expanse of skin, and the next I was covered in fabric that smelled of him, his hands tugging it into place, manipulating my arms, tucking them into the sleeves.
It was warm and there was a hint of mint in the fibers…and it was fucking wonderful to be surrounded by him.
Even better than the fantasies that crowded my head in the middle of the night.
Even better?—
“And I know they tipped,” he murmured, his voice just as warm as the material, just as rough as his hands. “It’s still for you, anyway.”
My eyes flew to his. “It’s too much,” I whispered.
“Keep it.”
“I can’t.”
“You work too much,” he whispered back. “Keep it.”
My eyes drifted away from his, inadvertently closing down, avoiding the argument. My gaze caught on a dent in the wall. It had been patched over and painted, but the surface wasn’t perfectly flat.
Trauma did that.
Busted through barriers, left marks and divots, and sometimes it even took chunks out that had to be filled in and smoothed over.
But even repaired, it was never the same, never exactly like it had been before.
I’d had repeated trauma.
The repairs were too great.
I was held together with duct tape and glue and pure will.
I didn’t have it in me to trust again.
“And you sleep too little,” Cas murmured, brushing a thumb beneath one of my eyes. And then the other.
I shuddered because despite all of those thoughts swirling through my head, all the reasons to avoid this man…his touch felt good.
“And you’re cold.” His hand lowering, his other joining in, both rubbing lightly along the outsides of my arms, using friction and his body heat to try to warm me.
But I didn’t need it. I wasn’t shivering because I was cold.
I was shivering because I was burning up inside.
“I’m not cold.”
“Then why are you shivering?” he asked.
My gaze shot back to his, cheeks blazing, and I knew he understood what my body was betraying because fire entered his gaze, blazing through the forest of his irises, sparking and spreading.
An inhale.
Mine.
Maybe his.
