Bayou

Chapter 11 ~ Glow

Chapter 11

When dinner was done, the dishes were clean, and Julia was tucking the children into bed, Croc walked up behind me and gently cupped my elbow.

"You already agreed," he said in way of greeting, as if he knew I would change my mind.

I turned, one brow lifted, but the expectant, puppy-eyed expression on his face was more than the strongest women could stand. I sighed and shook my head. "Fine."

He beamed and pulled me along, only to stop right outside the front door and bend down. "Climb on my back."

I took a step back. He was shirtless, which wasn't surprising. He usually was, and the idea of that kind of contact, let alone spreading myself against him, felt far too dangerous. And intimate. "Why?"

"I need to climb." He looked over his shoulder. "If you want, I can carry you in front of me." He stood and turned, opening his arms wide. "You'll need to," he paused and did a slow appraisal, all the way down and back up again, "You'll need to wrap your legs around me, and hug my neck." His voice lowered, Adam's apple bobbed.

The man looked ready to have a heart attack. "Oh, is that all? I bet you'd like that, huh?"

Croc nodded. "Very much."

I scoffed. "Not happening. Turn back around, and I'll climb on your back."

He grimaced but didn't argue. He did as told, pouting like a child who'd been denied their favorite toy. His shoulders stiffened when I linked my arms over them, and I felt him shiver as I stretched across his back. He gripped my legs on either side, securing them into place across his abdomen, then took a deep, shuddering breath.

"You okay there, Tarzan?"

"I don't know who that is, but I don't think I've ever been better." He stood and held me with one arm while his other scaled the side of the house. Gravity didn't care about my hormones or how uncomfortable I was. The minute it pulled at me, I instinctively locked my legs and gripped him tighter.

Croc made short work of the climb, and as he sat me down on the roof, my attention immediately narrowed to a pile of blankets and pillows arranged in its center. They were situated under a lean-to built out of sticks and moss.

"You made a bed for this?" I took a step backward.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me forward, preventing what would have been a very nasty fall.

I looked back at the place I'd been about to go over.

"Careful," Croc said, letting go of my hand. "That's my bed. It's always here."

"Oh." I stepped forward. "You sleep on the roof?"

"For almost as long as I can remember," he said. "After Pappy was gone, I got scared at night. Too many shadows in the house. Too exposed. Anything could get in, and my imagination made it hard to sleep." He shrugged one shoulder. "I thought being high up was safer."

"And now?"

He studied my face, from hairline to temple, lingering on my mouth before meeting my eyes again. "Now, I stay for the view." He extended his hand and waited patiently for me to take it.

I hesitated, chewing the inside of my lip.

"You're safe with me, Willow. I'd never do anything you didn't want to do." He paused. "Do you want me to take you back down?"

Dammit. He didn't make it easy. Didn't he understand? I wasn't worried about what he wanted or didn't want. I was worried about myself. I was worried I'd forget our situation and agree to things I shouldn't agree to. Every day it got harder to remember what he was. He didn't seem feral anymore. He didn't seem wild. He spoke, acted, and carried himself better than men who hadn't grown up under these conditions.