Chest heaving, I stiffen, not moving a muscle. I squeeze my eyes shut, burying my nerves and praying he will wake soon before I have to try and disarm him, which will lead to more questions, like how I know to do it in the first place. The strength cementing me into the couch is like stone. I’m stuck with nowhere to go.

Seconds, minutes, I don’t how long passes as I watch the movie play behind his terrified eyes. It’s all there, right in front of me, in rapid succession his unconscious state bares torturous events scarring his soul. What I wouldn’t give to see what he is seeing.

Adrenaline rushes through me. Do I touch him? Do I talk to him?

Some of the pressure holding me down alleviates, and I jump at the chance to free a limb.

I lift a shaky hand and gently rest it on his cheek. “Hey, it’s okay.”

I wait nervously, searching his eyes. Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have touched him? No, I know I shouldn’t have.

Brows furrowing, Mason squeezes his eyes shut and when he reopens them, they’re clear but tormented. He glares to where one arm is pinning my shoulder to the sofa and the other to the gun directed in my face.

“Shit. Lindsey.” His voice is raspy, breathing heavy. “I’m so sorry.” He jumps off me to stand, pulling me up beside him. Resting his head in his hands, he stays like that for a minute and I watch him, stunned, not knowing what the hell I should do. The quietness becomes awkward. I glance anywhere but at Mason until I can’t stand it anymore. He doesn’t want to talk and I don’t know what to say. So I turn, ready to head back to bed when my skin sears with the warmth of Mason’s hand on my arm.

“Wait.”

He spins me around and his strained expression holds a thousand words. The creases in his forehead, the lines around his eyes, the grimace of his lips, what could be so awful it haunts a man so painfully?

“I don’t know what just happened now, where you went. But you want to talk about it, or not talk about it, I’m just down the hall,” I say softly and I don’t miss him cringe at my words.

Anger ignites inside at the contorting of his face.

“Wow. Never mind. Forget I offered.” I walk away, becoming angrier and confused with every step. The man drew his gun on me, scared me half to death and made me care about him within seconds of each other. Wasn’t getting into my bed exactly what he’d been chasing? I was welcoming him to open up to me about something personal, but why the hell would he when I refuse to do the same? I shake my head at my own stupidity. My hypocritical self wants to help him, because the restless man dreaming moments ago looked just as damaged as how I used to feel.

As I’m about to leave the room, hands wrap around my stomach pulling me into a hard chest. The feathery light touch of Mason’s nose on the column of my neck makes me tilt my head to the side. My mind abandons all thought and lets my body sink into his embrace.

“You took that the wrong way, Lindsey. I know what you were thinking and that’s not it. I’ve been hard up for you since the day we met. I want you so fucking bad. But not like this. Not ‘cause you feel sorry for me about what you just saw, and not until you give me more. I don’t want one night, sweetheart. I want your all.”

My pussy throbs at his husky voice. My knees wobble at his light touch, but it’s not enough. I want fucking more and I want it now. But I can’t have more, because I refuse to give it. By offering to listen to him, I’ve given him more than I’d given any man in a long time.

I grab his hands from around my waist and reluctantly push them away. Turning around, I come face to face with passionate eyes matching my own and lips I want to kiss so badly. “I don’t have all of me to give. Goodnight, Mason.”

Without waiting for a response I retreat to my room.

I don’t know what I expected. I don’t know what possessed me to offer comfort when I’d be no help. But after a nightmare like the one he was having, I sure as hell didn’t think he would want to go back to sleep so he could continue the hell he was in. He was right though. For the moments I watched him break in agony, I did feel sorry for him. I watched my father suffer with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I don’t remember much but I do remember the nightmares. Watching Mason suffer through distress brought up memories I’d rather keep buried.

Cocooning myself in the safety of my sheets, I press my cheek into the cool pillow and cuddle it a little tighter. I curl into myself and close my eyes tightly in an effort to rid him from my thoughts. Mason Cole is capturing me piece by piece, and the last thing I need is to be imprisoned by his affection.

Mason

I wait for the blackness of the night to open up and swallow me whole. That’s what I deserve. Staring at the ceiling, I wait but it never comes. I lay here, wide a-fucking-wake, stewing over what happened half-an-hour earlier. I pointed a gun in her face. I restrained her, and worst of all, she witnessed me at my weakest. I hated it. I hated it. I loathed that I saw pity in her eyes. I shut down on her when she offered to talk, keeping a lid on the one part of me I can’t bear to share. No one knows the daily torture I deal with except Roamyn, and even he doesn’t realize the extent of how much I’m hurting. I’m not an idiot. I know after this long it’s become a problem. A shrink will tell me I’ve got PTSD, and I’d believe him. I don’t doubt that’s what it is, but I refuse to pop a pill to fade the memories. Why should I be allowed to conceal the pain? It’s my fault those children will never breathe life into this world again. Mistakes were made that could have been prevented and if I hadn’t been so eager, those children might still be alive today. The terrorizing sleepless nights are a reminder of a monumental misjudgment that can never be undone. I don’t deserve to forget and move on with my life when that’s an opportunity they’ll never have.

I toss and turn, unease curdling in my stomach, so I get up to check the locks and rooms again. I stop when I get to Lindsey’s room and lean on the doorframe. The soft glow of the moon shines through the window onto her sleeping body. She looks small wrapped up in such a huge bed, and my cock throbs, thickening in my jeans as I imagine being the one she’s clutching, rather than her pillow. I’m jealous. Jealous of a feather-filled comforter because it’s soothing her in a way I’ve not been able to. My feet inch closer. My fingers itch to reach out for her, for her hair, to grab her hips, squeeze her tits.

Fuck it. If I get in beside her, the worst she can do is send me on my way. But after earlier, there might be a slither of a chance she won’t.

Lindsey

A light, calloused touch scorches up my side, waking me from sleep. Goose bumps rise from the touch of fingertips and just as I’m about to scramble away, his signature scent hits me with a force of desire and I instantly calm. My shoulders fall and I relax my body back into the hot wall of pure muscle plastered behind me. Feathery kisses trail over my shoulder blade and I quiver at the tingling sensation freezing my body in place. His whiskered jaw prickles my skin, along my shoulder all the way up to my neck. It heightens my senses as lust shoots through my core, and I clutch my pillow, fighting the fire in my belly. I yearn to yank him over me and drive his cock right into me as far as it can go. His hand slides from my waist to my ass and as he squeezes firmly and I can’t help the moan from slipping past my lips. My own sounds of desire echoes through the room much louder than intended, and as soon as it’s left my mouth, Mason spreads his hand over my ass cheek and hip, clutching tightly, and with a quick jerk, he pulls me backwards pressing his jean-clad cock into my ass, rubbing his hardness against me.