Total pages in book: 190
Estimated words: 185785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
20
Killian
I wake up feeling strange. I’m not in bed.
I’m in a bed. I’m just not in my bed.
The fuck?
I jackknife upright and see Violet’s large, dark eyes on me. She’s got her blanket pulled up to her neck. Her hair is spread out, framing her face by taking up the whole giant pillow. Her eyes are on me with alarm.
“What am I doing here?” I call out like an idiot, then I scrub my eyes with my palms. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” I throw the covers back and stand up.
I’m in just a pair of jersey sleep shorts and they’re tented with morning wood.
Fuck! At least I didn’t put my hands on her this time. Or did I?
“It’s okay,” she squeaks out.
“It’s not. I can explain.”
Her eyes are on my junk. Of course they are. It’s pointing right at her.
“I’ll explain when I’m dressed.”
Because I threw her blankets back, I see she’s in a little camisole, short shorts, no bra. I can make out her nipples. Shit. Fuck, but she’s got perfect legs. I see her navel, too. I need outta here.
“See you out there in a few. I’m gonna… go.”
She sits up so she can scoop the blanket back over herself to cover up and her hair is everywhere. And she looks fucking gorgeous.
I storm outta there.
***
I’m showered, dressed, and on my second cup of coffee when she emerges, looking tense, her big eyes on me.
She’s showered and dressed, too, in yoga clothes, but with makeup on her face. Her hair is damp, curly, and in a high ponytail. She looks cute. She looks like she’s ready to go dress-shopping.
I pour her a coffee and pass it to her before I speak.
She hikes herself up onto the island. I’m behind it, standing and with both my palms resting on the granite, eyes on her.
“I sleepwalk,” I state.
“I kinda figured,” she whispers, looking up at me just briefly before blowing into her mug. She’s flushed. She can’t look at me. I’m not surprised.
“I haven’t done it in years,” I tell her.
“Oh.”
I run my hand through my hair, not liking how frazzled I feel. She’s not flipping out here; why am I?
A long moment of awkward silence passes until she puts her mug down and gives me her full attention.
And it dawns that I really fuckin’ like the look of her sitting on that counter, eyes on me, teeth embedded into her lip.
“I did it when I was stressed as a kid. I… had some shit to deal with growin’ up and who doesn’t, right? I really didn’t wanna get into this. It’s highly personal so I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it to yourself, but I’d get worked up and it’d mean I go wandering in my sleep, often putting myself between the bullshit and those that were vulnerable.”
“Like your little brother?”
“Yeah. I don’t want this information getting out there, so, please…”
“Of course.”
I lean forward aggressively. “I fuckin’ mean it.”
She jerks slightly but nods. “If you ask me to keep something between us, you can count on me, Killian. I wouldn’t ever betray a confidence, especially about something painful from your childhood. Not ever.”
I believe her. I believe her wholeheartedly.
And I really didn’t wanna fuckin’ get into this, but she needs an explanation for my behavior.
I stare. And I know I look pissed off. But she’s looking at me without fear, only concern. But I am pissed off. Because I could explain away waking up in my bed with her the other night but waking up in her bed has my head fucked up.
I take in a lungful of breath and blow it out slowly. “When stress got amped I’d sleepwalk, most often to get near to people in my life that needed protecting. And you’re someone that I seem drawn to protect right now, so …”
Her eyes go wide. Wider.
“I was protective over my little brother. Before that, my mother, but getting the shit kicked out of me for standing up for her and then her not lifting a finger to intervene… she lost that loyalty at some stage and I would just protect my brother.”
Fuck, why did I say that? I never tell people that shit. I keep on talking, though. “He used to come into my room if he was scared. He got teased for it by the jerk-off my mother was shacked up with, so he stopped coming in. I knew he was still scared, so if shit felt like it’d go south, I’d go to him. He was tryin’ to suck it up, so he’d tell me not to worry, send me away. Got to a point where I’d go to sleep in my room, wake up in his. I could take the shit Max would give me instead of Will and I guess subconsciously I’d just… walk there. Wake up on his floor.”