He made a little shhing sound, stroking his hand up and down the bare stretch of her spine.
She buried her face against his neck. “You just—you make me feel really safe, you know?”
Like she could let go. Like she could touch and be touched.
Like she was worth it.
“Yeah,” he said, clutching her close. “I know.”
Aiming the remote at the TV, Rylan clicked the volume down to almost nothing. For the past half hour, he’d been slowly softening his voice as he narrated the romance taking place in French across the screen. But Kate’s breaths had finally evened out. As the television went quiet, she snuggled in closer but otherwise didn’t stir.
He left the screen on as he lay there with her. The pale blue light washed across her skin, making her face seem to glow. Her head was resting on his shoulder, her hair soft between his fingers. Beneath the sheet, all of her nakedness was pressed to all of this.
And he didn’t deserve this. Not the tiniest fraction of it. His heart squeezed, and he had to pull his hand back from her hair, had to cover his mouth with his fist to keep the grunt of distress from falling from his lips.
This whole time, he’d been sitting around, feeling morally superior to the jackasses who had dared to touch her and not make her come. God. When she’d told him the rest of the story, it had felt like the floor was falling out from underneath him.
Like the moment when his father had been subpoenaed. When Rylan’s eyes had been opened.
He was just like his father in so many ways. Since birth, people had been telling him that. Every step of the way, he’d been groomed to fill the old man’s shoes, and it had chafed. The path that had been laid out for him, each decision he should’ve gotten to make on his own already predetermined. But it had been worth it. His father was a paragon, a monument, everything a man could hope to be. Everything Rylan was supposed to be.
When Kate had talked about her dad, her ex, those men who had seemed to be so good and who had turned out to be dark and ugly . . .
That day in his father’s office, when the doors had burst open and the agents had filed in.
Dark and ugly. Those words didn’t even begin to explain it.
Suddenly, all his father’s faults had been laid out. His charm was his philandering, his business sense his greed. Aggression turned to cruelty and callousness, and Rylan had seen them all. He’d seen them in himself.
When Kate saw them in Rylan. When she found out who he’d been in line to become . . .
His lungs squeezed so hard he could scarcely breathe.
When she found out he’d been lying to her all along.
He bit down into his knuckle, trying to force the bile back into his throat.
Rylan hadn’t lied to Kate. Not once had he said something explicitly untrue. But that wouldn’t save him. He was just as bad as her asshole of an ex, as her dad. The ones who’d made her look at a man who was extending his hand and believe he was a threat.
Rylan was that threat. He was a liar.
And he hated himself even more than he had before.
A shiver ran through him. Kate shifted, and he froze. All she did was slide her knee across his thigh, though, letting her hand rest higher on his chest.
She trusted him.
Fuck. He curled his hands up into fists, digging his nails into the meat of his palms, but it didn’t help. A good man would wake her up right now and tell her everything. He’d let her make her own decisions. He’d watch her walk away.
And Rylan just . . . couldn’t. Her face would crumple, and it would kill him. She’d been so skittish when she’d met him, and the idea of putting that fear in her eyes again made him want to take every single thing back. Every word and every touch. And he would never do that. Not in a million years.
What was he supposed to do?
Except be as good to her as he could.
They only had another couple of days, and if he could keep his conscience quiet, he could spend those days with her. He could shower her with all the affection and care she deserved. Then at the end of it, she’d go, and she would never have to know. She could keep some kind of faith that maybe there was a guy out there who wouldn’t screw her over.
He couldn’t decide if it was the most selfish plan or the most selfless one he’d ever had.
Her body gave another little restless twitch, and his heart ached. But he didn’t wake her. He didn’t let the confessions welling up inside his chest pour out.
His decision had been made.
He’d do what he had to do. He’d stay quiet, and he’d adore her the best he could. He wouldn’t hurt her. Not any more than he had to.
Picking up the remote again, he turned the television off, bathing them both in darkness. With a murmur, she turned over, and he followed, fitting his front to the curve of her spine. He buried his face against her hair and wrapped her up inside his arms, closing his eyes and breathing her in.
But sleep didn’t come to him for a long, long time.
chapter TWENTY
Rylan blinked his eyes open to an early morning glow seeping in through the curtains. Blearily, he closed his eyes again. He’d never been good at getting back to sleep, but if he could just roll over and kick his feet free from the covers, he might be able to.
Beside him, Kate gave a soft moan, and just like that, a layer of fog cleared from his mind. The two of them were still spooned up together, though by some mercy, he’d managed to end up with a few inches of air separating his dick from her ass. Not that it helped much. She was sleep-warm and slack against his chest, their fingers intertwined beside her head, her breasts pressed softly to his forearm where it draped across her ribs.
His morning arousal gave a little kick, and he shifted his knees forward, sliding his shin against the back of her calf. Her skin was so smooth, felt so good against his own.
His guilt from the night before crowded in on him, though. He closed his eyes and fought the tide of want pulsing through his veins. He started to tug his arm back, but she stirred, humming and squeezing his hand. He swallowed, ready to pull away when she half turned over and snugged her ass against his hips.
Lightning flooded through him.
“Kate,” he groaned, and it was strained even to his ears. He extricated his hand from hers and gripped her hip, trying to keep her still. Not pressing forward, no matter how much he was dying to, just in case she wasn’t okay with this when she woke the rest of the way up.
“Hmm?”
God. She was still moving against him, probably completely unaware of what she was doing.
His voice came out raspy and low. “You’re killing me.” He tried to scoot away, but to no avail.
Fuck this. He shook her this time. She was all pliant and warm, stretching her arms and craning her neck and feeling so fucking sexy against him he could hardly handle it.
And then all at once she froze.
Yeah. That wasn’t a gun pressed to her rear.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, releasing his grip. Maybe she’d let him get away from her now. He could go rub one out in the bathroom. Or maybe take a cold shower. Something to keep him from losing his fucking mind with how much he wanted her.
From taking something he didn’t deserve.
“No.” She sounded more awake now. Reaching back, she curled a hand around his thigh, preventing him from going anywhere, and goddammit all. He wasn’t made of stone.
He wrapped his arm back around her, stroking the underside of her breast and mouthing at the smooth skin of her shoulder. “Baby.” He shook his head in warning. “You’re playing with fire here.”
“You haven’t burned me yet.”
She had no idea.
He squeezed her tight, fighting against the instinct to roll his hips, but it was a losing battle.