Page 40 of Hell of a Mess
“About your mom?” he asked.
There wasn’t pity in his gaze. The relief from that had me nodding my head.
“At first,” I told him. Then it always went darker.
His hand fell from my cheek, and I wanted to grab it and put it back. Somehow, his touch had managed to warm the ice that always settled in my bones after dreams like that one. I was afraid it would return if he moved away.
“You good now?” he asked me.
I should tell him yes and let him go. But for the first time since I’d lost my mother, I didn’t feel alone.
I shook my head. “No,” I replied. “Stay.”
The torn expression on his face had me instantly regretting it. He wanted to leave. Of course he did. He was probably tired, and I’d interrupted his sleep.
“I mean, never mind. I’m fine. Thank you,” I stammered out, scooting away from him.
It was best I didn’t start wanting comfort. I’d lived without it long enough. It was dangerous to rely on it now.
He sighed, then stood up. My chest tightened as fear already began to creep in. When I closed my eyes, would the memory continue in my sleep? The worst of it? The monsters in the dark—they always returned.
“Scoot over,” he said, interrupting my thoughts.
“What?” I whispered, not sure I’d heard him correctly.
“Move over, Ocean Eyes,” he said more firmly this time but used that nickname for me again. One that no one else had ever used.
I did as instructed, and Luther pulled the covers back, then did a small shake of his head and pulled them over me againbefore sitting down on top. My eyes traveled down his body for the first time to find he was shirtless and in a pair of athletic shorts. I sucked in a breath. His arms were corded with defined muscle and decorated with tattoos that I couldn’t make out in the darkness, as was his chest. I wondered if the artwork was also on his back.
He leaned against the headboard instead of lying down and crossed his arms over his chest. “Get some rest,” he told me, closing his eyes.
Was he going to sleep sitting up?
“That looks uncomfortable,” I said hesitantly.
I shouldn’t have asked him to stay.
“It’s fine. Go back to sleep. I’ll be here to fight off the demons.”
He didn’t open his eyes and look at me when he said it, but I stared at him. My chest felt tight and…warm. The desire to curl up against him and soak in the heat he seemed to stir inside me was there, but I knew better. He would most likely bolt from the room if I did that.
Forcing myself to close my eyes, I found a peace in the silence that was as foreign to me as the warmth, and I drifted away into a blank bliss, where the monsters were quiet.
There were tattoos on his back. I stared at the artwork of a tiger with bloodthirsty eyes and his mouth wide open. It then morphed into a skull. The artistry behind it was brilliant yet somber. A dangerous living being that wielded its power, yet a reminder of how all things had an end. Mortality. I caught myself before reaching out to touch it.
At some point, Luther had decided to lie down last night. His back was to me, and I was okay with that. Waking up to the sight of his wide shoulders, sculpted back, and the dark beautyhe’d had inked onto it was a pleasant surprise. Although my cheeks heated when I thought about how I’d asked him to stay last night. Somehow, I had known his being here would keep my nightmares away, and they had. I’d slept without dreaming.
I hoped he had slept well. At least he’d lain down. He was still on top of the covers though.
My gaze drifted down his back to the rest of his very impressive body. Even his legs were sexy. Tanned, muscular, and possibly the only area he didn’t have a tattoo.
“You done checking me out?” His voice was raspy and deep, causing me to jump.
Staring at the back of his head now, my eyes widened in surprise and embarrassment. How had he known I was awake and looking at him?
“I, um…I, uh…was admiring your tattoo.” That wasn’t a lie.
“Hmm,” he hummed and stretched. “Sure you were.”
