Page 57 of Almost Ravaged (Men of Evercrisp Orchard #1)
Chapter forty-eight
Mercer
I t feels as though I’ve barely drifted off when the stomach-swooping sensation strikes. The falling sensation is so vivid and intense it takes my breath away.
I snap my eyes open, but I lie stock still on my side.
I’m in my room at the orchard.
I’m okay.
Remarkably, I’m not alone.
Beside Sawyer like this is exactly where I want to be.
It wasn’t a surprise when she climbed into my bed without hesitation.
What shocked the hell out of me was when Noah appeared, freshly showered and in clean clothes.
He came down to join us, fully committed to the aftercare of the woman we ravaged tonight.
Sawyer is between us, sleeping on her side, facing me.
Noah is on her other side, lying flat on his back, snoring softly.
He and I have shared a bed countless times throughout our lives. But never quite like this.
As children, we would sleep in his bed in this very house when I’d come for sleepovers .
As a teenager, I made all sorts of poor decisions and reckless choices, and in turn, Noah felt as though he had to sleep at my side to ensure my breathing remained steady and I didn’t choke on my own vomit.
I can’t count how many times we’ve ended up in bed together over the last eighteen months because I didn’t want him to feel alone.
He’s not alone now , I marvel.
Despite the means feeling unnatural and forced, I’m proud of what we accomplished tonight.
Maybe I pushed him too hard, but I broke the fucking seal.
If he can avoid drowning in his own self-loathing or feeling like he betrayed Meg’s memory, tonight will have been a success.
I pushed him.
I pushed and pushed and pushed until he snapped and gave in to what we all knew he wanted.
But that wasn’t the only significant triumph of the night.
There was that moment, upstairs in the bathtub.
I was certain there was no getting through to him.
He was in full shutdown mode. Despondent, lost in his own head.
The life had gone from his eyes, leaving an apathy I know all too well.
Sawyer’s ability to coax him out of his shell was nothing short of a miracle. It was impressive, her willingness to be vulnerable with him, to ask him for something none of us were sure he could give.
It’s incredible to be seen and to be wanted by not one but two people. Despite the platonic dynamic between Noah and me, the deep-seated trust we share is what made tonight possible. Regardless of what happens next or where this journey takes us, I’ll never forget the magic of this night.
Though it’s dark, my eyes have adjusted, allowing me to make out Sawyer’s features.
The messy mass of hair piled atop her head. The sharp slope of her nose. The soft curve of her jaw. The roundness of her cheeks.
I’m staring at her like an absolute creeper when her brows pull together and stay like that, causing a crease to form between them.
The whimper she lets out next is not the kind I love to hear from her.
It drips with fear, or maybe pain .
I hold my breath, waiting for the moment to pass. But rather than pass, it gets worse, her eyes screwing shut. Then a quiet but clear “no, no, no” escapes her parted lips.
Fuck. I don’t want to disturb her sleep, but I hate the thought of her experiencing even a modicum of distress.
I’m still warring over what to do when she lets out a much louder “ No !”
Noah startles; panic flares inside me.
If she wakes him, the magic of this moment might very well be broken.
If he’s disoriented or foggy, he might climb out of bed and leave.
I don’t know what it would do to Sawyer to wake up and find him gone in the morning.
Especially after he walked through my bedroom door tonight and the most brilliant smile illuminated her face.
Sawyer thrashes against her pillow, the sheet twisting around her.
That’s when I make my move.
With an arm around her, I bring my mouth to her ear. “Shh, sweetheart. You’re all right.”
I cup the back of her neck, searching for a way to calm her. The move has the opposite effect, and she jerks on contact, kicking me in the shin.
I smooth my hand over her face repeatedly and speak in a low, easy tone, hoping I don’t wake Noah as well. “Sawyer, you’re all right. Wake up, sweetheart. You’re all right.”
As I cup her cheek, my palm dampens.
My heart thuds painfully.
Is she crying? In her sleep?
“Sawyer,” I say, louder this time. I have to put an end to her agony .
Her eyes flutter open, and she lets out a gasp.
“Shh.” I kiss her forehead. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re all right.”
All the tension in her body deflates as she comes to. Sniffling, she wiggles closer. I pull her in and hold her tight.
“You’re okay,” I tell her.
Eventually, she nuzzles into my neck, releasing an exhausted sigh.
“You’re okay.”
“I’m really not,” she says into my chest.
I still, though I don’t loosen my hold. “Do you want to talk about it?”
A few charged seconds pass between us before she shakes her head.
I kiss her forehead once more and let out a breath. I respect her choice not to share and I won’t push her to talk, but I’ll do everything in my power to ease her discomfort.
“What do you need?” I ask. “A glass of water?”
“No. Please don’t leave.” She presses a kiss to my bare chest. “What I need is a distraction,” she whispers. “Make me forget, Mercer.”
Without waiting for a reply, she splays a hand against my shoulder and pushes me onto my back. Then she swings one leg over my body and rearranges herself under the covers so she’s straddling my lap.