JENNIE
I stop short, eyes widening. My pulse starts to pound all over again.
Bent over with his elbows propped on his knees and his hands steepled under his chin, Taehyung stares at my bedroom carpet in intense concentration.
When it becomes apparent he's not going to talk first, I say, "How'd you get back in without the key?"
"I didn't lock the door behind me."
"Why not?"
He exhales heavily, as if he was afraid I'd ask that question. He closes his eyes and drops his voice. "I knew I'd want to come back in."
This is so far beyond my realm of experience with men, I don't know how to proceed. I stand there staring at him for a moment, my heartbeat going haywire, my wet hair dripping down my back.
Then I say softly, "You can stay if you want, but, um...I'm not in any shape to...uh..."
"For fuck's sake, lass," he says through gritted teeth. "I'm a lot of bad things, but a man who takes advantage of an injured woman isn't one of them."
"I know you're not."
He lifts his head and gazes at me, his brows drawn together, thunderclouds gathering over his head. "You can't know that."
"But I do."
My confidence aggravates him. He stands, towering over me, and sends me a glare that would make any reasonable person tremble. But apparently I'm not reasonable, because he doesn't scare me one bit.
I lift my chin and meet his glare. "You're not a danger to me. Nothing you can say will convince me otherwise."
He stalks closer, eyes blazing. "You watched me kill three men."
"I also watched you try not to talk to me for almost a full year because you thought you wouldn't be good for me."
"I'm not good for you."
"So you've said. Wine and cheeseburgers aren't good for me either, but they're literally two of my favorite things. Also, that argument would hold more weight if you hadn't saved my life. Being alive is good for me. Hence, you are good for me."
Nostrils flaring, he mutters an oath.
"You can curse all you want, wolfie. It does nothing to change the fact that I trust you."
He's appalled by that. His eyes widen and his lips part in shock. "You trust me," he repeats faintly.
"Don't look so horrified. Maybe I'm a good judge of character."
"Or maybe that kick you took knocked something loose in your head."
"Okay. You win. I'm delusional and you're really a monster. Leave."
He doesn't move. He's rooted to the spot as if he grew there, gazing at me in outraged disbelief. And a healthy dose of anger, too.
Anger at himself, not me.
We both know he wants to leave, but he's going to do no such thing.
I try not to sound too smug about it. "Good. Now that we've established you're staying, I'm going to change into my PJs and get into bed."
His burning gaze slashes to my bed. Miraculously, it doesn't burst into flames. Then I go back into the bathroom and shut the door, leaning against it as soon as it closes behind me. I stand there breathing until my knees have stopped knocking and some semblance of order has returned to the chaos of my mind.
I dress quickly and blow-dry my hair, leaving it damp because I'm too impatient to finish the job.
Then, as if this is totally normal and I always have insanely hot, mysterious, dangerous men in black Armani suits wrestling with their consciences over for sleepovers, I calmly exit the bathroom and crawl into bed.
I curl up on my side, pull the covers up to my chin, and gaze up at Taehyung.
He stands in the same spot I left him, staring down at me like he can't for the life of him understand what's happening.
I whisper, "Sing me to sleep, wolfie. Sing me a lullaby."
He covers his eyes with a hand and groans softly.
"If it will help, I'll pretend to be really scared of you if you're still here when I wake up. I'll scream and everything."
He drops his hand to his side and sighs. It's heavy and resigned, and I know that I've won.
He turns his head and looks at me from under lowered lashes, his jaw set, a lock of dark hair falling into his eyes. I want to reach out and stroke it aside but manage to control myself.
Keeping my voice as soft as before, I say, "You don't really have to sing to me. You don't have to talk at all, if you don't want to. We can just be."
Looking frustrated, he says, "Are you always like this?"
I furrow my brow. "Like what?"
He thinks for a moment. "Idiotically fearless."
"I'm not fearless. I'm afraid of lots of things. Just not you."
"That's why you're an idiot."
I smile at him, not insulted even a little bit. "Excuse me, but I'm very intelligent."
"Intelligent people don't invite total strangers into their bedrooms in the middle of the night after being attacked in a dark alley."
"They do if that total stranger wasn't a total stranger but was the one who saved them from said attack. And not to splice hairs, but I didn't invite you. You were already here when I came out of the bathroom."
He glowers at my logic. "At the very least, it's reckless."
"Look. You charmed my scary roommate who hates mostly everyone into giving you a key. You got my medication for me. You brought me clean clothes to the hospital. You gave me a book about life, death, and love. These are not things a bad guy would do. You're not going to convince me otherwise. Let's move on, please."
He studies me intently for a moment, then turns his attention back to the carpet. He thinks for a while. He drops his head, passes a big paw over his dark hair, squeezes the back of his neck, and sighs heavily.
Then he says in a low, rough voice, "Turn over onto your other side."
Scorching hot and violent, adrenaline explodes into my bloodstream. Heart pounding, I roll over and stare wide-eyed at the wall.
The mattress moves as Taehyung stands. I hear rustling and the slither of fabric, then the mattress dips with his weight.
Then he stretches out behind me and tucks his legs up under mine.
Very gently, he slides his left arm under my head until his biceps is supporting my neck and my cheek is resting on the pillow. I'm frozen except for my heart, which beats frantically.
How much of his clothing did he remove? Is he naked right now? Is the wolf lying totally naked right next to me? No—he's still got his shirt on. His arm under my neck is covered by a sleeve. But maybe he took off his slacks? Definitely his jacket. What about his tie? Shoes? Belt?
I'm having a heart attack. This is it. Oh god. I'm going to die right here and now.
"Breathe," Taehyung murmurs.
I exhale in a huge gust, shuddering.
"Better."
Closing my eyes, I listen to the roar of my heartbeat for several long minutes. Behind me, Taehyung is silent and still. The only parts of our bodies that are touching are the front of his knees, the backs of mine, and my neck resting on his arm, but I'm excruciatingly aware of every inch of him, head to toe.
He's generating so much heat I could be snuggled against a furnace.
His quiet exhalation stirs my hair. "Go to sleep."
He thinks I could sleep at a time like this?
I worry my lower lip with my teeth, feeling how fat and sore it is and wondering how much it'll hurt when he kisses me—because he has to kiss me, it's just a question of when—until I freeze again because Taehyung has nuzzled his nose against the bare nape of my neck...
And is gently inhaling.
Every inch of my skin breaks out in goose flesh. I almost groan out loud.
His big warm hand curls around my upper arm and squeezes. He murmurs, "Easy."
Maybe I did groan out loud. Hell, maybe I soaked the sheets, too. There's a distinct throbbing between my legs that's probably sending out shockwaves he can feel, like a Richter scale picking up the rumblings of an earthquake.
I turn my face to the pillow and whimper.
His voice turns thick. "I'll get you some of your pain meds."
I want to roll over and bash him with my pillow. Instead, I say, "We both know you're not that clueless."
He doesn't reply. A minute goes by. Two. I blow out a long breath through my lips, silently, counting to one hundred and back again. Eventually, I calm down.
Behind me, Taehyung is rigid, breathing raggedly, his chest pressed against my shoulder blades so I feel how wildly his heart pounds.
Either he pulled me against his body or I flexed back, but either way, I'm flush against him now, my back against his chest and stomach, my butt against his crotch.
His heartbeat isn't the only thing I feel.
Taehyung moves his hand from my arm to my hip and squeezes me there. He says roughly into my ear, "Don't move. Give me a moment."
I freeze.
We stay like that for what feels like an eternity, until he presses his cheek to the back of my neck and exhales. His warm breath fans over my skin, slipping under the collar of my shirt and skimming down my shoulder blades, lighting all my nerves on fire.
I whisper, "Please don't leave. I don't want you to leave. I want you to stay with me."
His groan is barely audible. "Jen..."
"I'll be very still and quiet. Look, I'm going to sleep. I'm asleep already." I pretend to snore.
When I hear what sounds like a chuckle, my heart leaps with hope. I have no idea why it's suddenly so imperative that he stay, except maybe that I feel safer when he's around.
In one swift move, I turn over, slip my left arm around his waist, and tuck my head under his chin, snuggling up against his solid warmth.
He sucks in a breath and goes rigid.
We stay like that for a while, me curled into him with my eyes squeezed shut, holding my breath, and him impersonating a frozen brick wall. His heart is a jackhammer under my cheek. I don't dare breathe, or move, or make a sound.
Then, very slowly, his freeze starts to thaw.
The hand that had been squeezing my hip before I turned settles there again, just over the curve of my hipbone, fingers slightly trembling. He lowers his head to the pillow, releasing a fraction of the tension in his limbs, and draws a slow breath.
He whispers, "This won't end well."
"I promise I won't move again. Not even an inch."
"I'm not talking about tonight."
"Can you please not be cryptic for like half a minute? I'm enjoying this."
He makes a sound low in his throat, a masculine noise of pain or pleasure, I can't tell which. He says, "Me too. That's the problem."
He's holding me so gently. Like I'm fragile, a piece of bone china he might easily break. I love it exactly as much as it annoys me.
I don't want him to manhandle me per se, especially not now since I'm sore and bruised pretty much everywhere. But when I'm healed, I hope he doesn't treat me like I'm so breakable.
In fact, I hope he maybe gets a little...I mean it might be nice if he lost some of that steely self-control and got just the tiniest bit...
Rough.
Imagining it, a shiver goes through me. A thrill like a single violin note, singing high and sweet.
Into my ear, in a gravelly voice that sounds like he's on the outermost edge of his restraint, Taehyung says, "Whatever you're thinking right now, lass, stop."
My ears go hot. I breathe, "Sorry."
He's tense again. A big ball of tension and nerves, his frustration seeping out with every uneven breath.
I wish I didn't find his reluctance so seductive. I wish I didn't think his ambivalence is so hot. But the harder he fights himself and denies himself what his body so obviously wants, the more intrigued I become.
"I'm not afraid of you. I'm afraid for you, for all the things I want from you that I think you just might give."
Remembering his words, I wonder what kinds of things he wants from me.
Taehyung's chest rises and falls with his sigh. "Go to sleep, lass. Get some rest."
"Will you be here when I wake up?"
He doesn't answer, but he doesn't have to. Because I whisper, "I hope so," and I hear his soft groan of despair, and in that despair I hear a surrender.
I wasn't sure before, but now I know it in my bones. Even if he's not here in the morning, he'll come back again soon enough.
The important question now is why he wishes so badly that he wouldn't.