The Survivor Read Online Jessica Gadziala

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Insta-Love, Suspense Tags Authors: Jessica Gadziala Advertisement

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“You don’t have to sleep here if you don’t want to. But I’m making it clear that I’m giving you the invitation,” he said.

He gave my hips a squeeze.

Then released me.

I knew it was smarter for me to go back to my room, to try to keep some distance. But I couldn’t seem to find that kind of self-control.

“I’m just gonna brush my teeth,” I told him, then rushed off to do that.

I did check on the dogs too.

Tilly was getting a drink of water. Finished, she cast a gaze at me that seemed to scream What do you want? Then she turned and walked back to the bed to curl up with Boss.

Apparently, he was her new boyfriend.

Some part of me was a little envious as my mind reminded me of all the reasons that it was a terrible idea to climb into bed with Wells, to let things progress.

Surely, there had to be a cop code of conduct in this sort of situation. There was no way he was allowed to get involved with someone who was a part of an active criminal investigation.

If they eventually did find my attacker, would this thing with Wells and me mean that his investigation would be brought into question? Would a guilty man walk because of it?

Those were the things that had my feet feeling heavy on the steps as I made my way back up. My soul felt equally weighted. Enough that I’d started writing a mental script for a conversation with Wells about all the reasons we couldn’t do this.

But then I stepped into the doorway.

And there he was in bed, the covers around his waist, his soft gaze on me.

The words evaporated.

As did any of my hangups.

I just walked toward the bed and climbed under the covers.

Wells reached for something, then handed me the remote.

“You said you sleep with the TV on,” he said at my confused look.

I did.

And it meant more than it likely should have that he remembered that fact.

“Just, please, no true crime,” he asked. “Not before bed,” he added.

“No, before bed, it is all about old history documentaries,” I told him, clicking around until I found the channel. “The narrators always have those deep, smooth voices. Puts me right to sleep,” I added, handing him back the remote after turning down the volume. “I checked on the dogs. They’re more in love than ever,” I added as I fiddled with the pillows until I got them right.

I’d never been good at sleeping at places other than home. The pillows never felt right. The covers were always too much or not enough. The room temperature never suited my preferences.

Somehow, though, I managed to settle right in, watching a show about the ruins of some ancient city that had been rediscovered.

I thought that would be that.

But then Wells’s hand slid under my shoulders, curled, and pulled me over onto my side, then up onto his chest.

His arm stayed draped around me, a heavy weight across my lower back, as my face rested on his warm skin, as my body rose and fell with his breath, as I listened to the steady beat of his heart.

I never felt safer.

For the first time since the attack, I slept like a baby.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Detective Wells Vaughn

I didn’t know her schedule.

So I’d adjusted my alarm on my phone while she’d dressed after… well, after. I wanted to be up earlier to get random morning shit done in case she had to leave before I did, so I could drive her to work.

I would get right on getting a cruiser on her as soon as I got to work. But I wanted to be there for her when she went back.

But she was dead asleep when I slipped out of bed to go downstairs and let the dogs out.

Matilda eyed me as I made Boss’s breakfast, so I grabbed her food and made her some as well. The two of them ate side-by-side as I brewed the coffee. And for the first time in… ever, I reached up for two mugs.

The dogs went back outside after breakfast as I scrolled my phone for someplace with breakfast that I could get delivered.

Adding a few things to my cart, I didn’t hit order until I went back upstairs, showered, then brought a still-sleeping Mari a cup of coffee.

I sat off of her side of the bed, reaching outward to brush a strand of hair out of her face. The tickling motion had her scrunching her nose in her sleep, and I swear to hell, my heart felt like it squeezed in my chest.

“Baby,” I called, voice soft, knowing she was in a strange place, and not used to having a man waking her up. “Mari,” I tried again, but this time, I reached out, tracing my finger down her jaw, then her neck, marveling at the softness of her skin.

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