Page 57 of Pulse
“Dahlia?”
“Yeah?” I ask sleepily.
“I’m not as brave as you think I am either.”
Before I can answer him, I drift off into a land of dreams.
Chapter Thirteen
Troy
Boom.
A crack of thunder shakes the house, coaxing me from a deep sleep.
Rain hammers the windows in a relentless assault as bolts of lightning streak the dark sky. The wind whips outside, bending the palm trees at unnatural angles. It’s a dreary, ominous morning. The only positive is the woman lying beside me.
Dahlia’s strawberry-hued hair is spread across the white pillowcase, her lips pressed together in a sweet pout. I woke up at dawn and watched her sleep for an hour. She’s so peaceful,so fucking beautiful, that it’s hard to comprehend.
How is she real? How is she here, in this bed, with me?
I lie quietly and mull over yesterday. I wait for a moment of panic to rip through me. But it doesn’t come.
By all indications, I should be extricating myself from this situation. My ass should be on the phone with Ford, requesting someone take my place because the majority of yesterday afternoon was highly inappropriate and unprofessional. I havenever, not once, even considered getting involved with someone I was hired to protect.
Never.
I didn’t consider getting involved with Dahlia either.Have I thought about it? A million times.Have I wished it could happen? Every day since I met her. But I know that can’t happen. I know I’d ruin her—taint her world with a stain she doesn’t need.So why in the hell did things get so out of control? Why did I ask her questions about her sexual preferences, for fuck’s sake?
And why am I still in bed with her?
I study the curve of her lips and the bend of her neck. Her jawline is soft and smooth. Her lashes are dark and long. She’s the epitome of beauty in every way, and being near her, interacting with her, and sharing her space makes me feel something strange.
It’s a way I’ve never felt before.
It’s a way that, if things were different, I could get used to.
“Ah.”
Her lips part, and a soft moan slips through the room. The sound, sweet and sexy, sends a shot straight to my cock.
“Oh.” She lifts her chin, the corner of her eyes creasing. “There.”
The word is mumbled but discernible.
She moans again, squirming beneath the blankets. My heart hammers in my chest. My balls tighten so hard it hurts.
The edge of her shirt—my shirt—rides up her side. She kicks the blankets until they sit just above her hip and expose her bare skin from below her navel to just below her tits.
Every cell in my body is on high alert as I watch her hand slide between her legs.
This can’t be happening.
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be watching this … but I’ll be damned if I get up.
She sucks a breath in through her teeth, arching her back off the bed. Her knees spread. The blanket dips again, lower this time, until her pussy is barely covered.
My God.
