Tortured by Nicole Williams

Author:Nicole Williams [Williams, Nicole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Tortured
Publisher: Nicole Williams
Published: 2017-04-06T18:00:00+00:00

“Brecken,” I whispered as quietly as I could, checking the time on the clock again. It wasn’t even six thirty, but I wanted to have plenty of time to get out of the bed Brecken was in so my son wouldn’t find me tangled up with him. Clothed or not, he was sure to have questions.

He was sleeping hard apparently, because he didn’t even budge when I whispered his name again. When I went to try to pull his arm off of me, however, he snapped awake.

He squinted at the clock before dropping his head back on the pillow. “It’s not even six thirty. Sleep.”

Winding his arm around me, he pulled me back against him, settling the bend of my body into the bend of his. That was when I felt something strange. Or maybe not strange, but inappropriate.

“Brecken,” I hissed, prying at his forearm like I could actually budge him.

“What?” he said drowsily.

“You’re having morning … issues.” I tried to ignore the feel of him hard against my backside, but it would have been easier to ignore the sun blasting two inches in front of my face.

He was silent for a moment, then a grunt of realization came from him. “That’s not a morning issue.” He adjusted himself so his lap wasn’t pressed against me. “That’s a Camryn issue. There’s a difference.”

“Yeah, but it’s the morning.”

“And I’ve woken up the past six years of mornings without this”—he cleared his throat to fill in the rest—“issue.”

My cheeks felt hot from talking about what we were. My body felt hot from feeling what it just had. Both of us coming off the night we had, the scars we’d born to one another … it seemed like the very definition of the wrong time to be having these kinds of feelings.

But right or wrong, there they were.

“Sorry,” he said, shifting around in bed to grab a pillow. He stuffed it between us. “There. Taken care of.”

“Sorry it happened?”

“Sorry it made you uncomfortable.” He adjusted the pillow a little lower before reattaching his arm around me. “Not sorry I feel that way about you.”

My head tipped back to find him already looking at me, like he was waiting. “You feel that way about me,” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “As in you want to have sex? You’re not sorry for that?”

“I’m not sorry I still want to love you. In every way I can.” His voice was clear now, the sleep gone from his eyes too. “I haven’t been with a woman in more than half a decade. The last woman I was with is the one beside me in bed right now. I can control my hands, I can control my mouth, I can control most of my body, but I can’t control that, and I can’t control my thoughts.”

“Well, there’s a pillow to solve the problem of one issue you can’t control.” I found myself smiling back at him, despite the awkwardness and the tragedy of our whole situation. He was smiling back.

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