The Acadia Killer

Chapter 12

I was obviously insane. Totally bonkers. Michelle was going to have a fucking field day over this. I'd never hear the end of it for the rest of my life if she had anything to say about it.

A gentle snore followed by a quick body adjustment beside me signaled Blake's exhausted frame in my bed. He was mere inches from touching me, and oh, how I wanted him to touch me again!

I was a take it slow type of relationship girl. I never wanted to do a relationship to begin with, but Michelle's words coupled with the way Blake was taking care of me – and pleasuring me – had me questioning all my choices about not trying to date this man. He had a good heart – something I wasn't used to in a boyfriend. That's not to say he was anything close to being my boyfriend – that would really flip Michelle out – but there was... something between us. I didn't know what, really, but a stubborn little spark was trying vigorously to ignite something passionate between us, whether I liked it or not.

My racing mind had driven me out of slumber around midnight and I found myself going back and forth between counting the minutes ticking around the clock and counting the stars glittering out the window. It was just passed two and I could feel exhaustion creeping back in. The couple hours I'd slept beside Blake had been a decent cat nap, but I knew I'd be getting up in the morning with bloodshot, puffy eyes and a serious likelihood of chugging coffee all day long.

I glanced over at the man beside me. He looked so relaxed and peaceful. A part of me wished we could stay that way forever and just escape reality. His messy, wavy hair was hanging in his face as he lay there with one arm under the pillow and his other arm stretched out toward me. I craved his touch again, and it took all my self-control not to slide his arm around my torso and cuddle up to him.

After our intense foreplay in the kitchen, I'd debated asking Blake to leave. In fact, I knew for my own sake – and maybe my inability to keep my hands off of him – that it was the best idea for him to head home. But then he had to go and be all amazing again and offer to stay. It wasn't a suggestive offer. It had absolutely nothing to do with the intimacy between us. It was Blake being a good man, understanding that I was uncomfortable alone in the house, even without me saying a word about it. He offered to spend the night to take care of me – to make me feel safe. How could I have possibly turned that down? And right then I knew I was in serious danger of falling for him.

Nothing else sexual happened between us for the rest of the evening. We shared some leftovers from a frozen pizza Michelle had brought over, watched a couple episodes of Fire Country, and decided to call it a night once another round of storms started moving in and the satellite went out.

Initially, I'd expected him to say he was going to crash on the couch, but I felt guilty not giving him an actual bed to sleep in. There were two other bedrooms in the beach house, but one was being used as a home office for guests who wanted to work while away, and the one beside the bedroom I was inhabiting had no sheets or bedding on the mattress, and I didn't know where Michelle had the excess linens hidden.

Although it was somewhat awkward for the first few minutes, I truly didn't mind having Blake spend the night in my bed. Honestly, it was exactly what he intended it to be – a comfort to me.

When the grandfather clock downstairs chimed three o'clock, I finally decided to give up on sleeping any further. I felt like something had to be wrong with me, given the gorgeous and protective man in my bed. Why couldn't I just cuddle up to him and fall back asleep? Well, that's easier said than done when your mind won't stop racing no matter how many damn sheep you've imagined jumping over a fence or the moon or whatever they're supposed to jump over.

I climbed out of bed and quietly padded downstairs, hoping not to wake Blake. I turned on a couple of the undermounted cabinet lights in the kitchen for a small amount of light and retrieved my laptop from the living room. Plopping down at the kitchen table, I opened my computer and began to type.