Page 19

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Freya allowed Abe to lead her by the hand up the stairs to the bedroom. Exhaustion weighed heavily on her, not just from the day’s events, but from the emotional toll of opening her heart to him. Yet, paradoxically, she felt lighter than she had in years. How was that even possible?

Abe pushed open the bedroom door, his hand lingering on hers for a moment before letting go. “I’ll take the floor.” He retrieved a draped blanket from a chair in the corner, then grabbed a pillow from the bed and tossed it onto the hardwood.

“One more thing.” He took a chair and wedged it under the door handle. “Better safe than sorry.”

Freya climbed into the bed fully dressed. Just in case . The sheets were clean and carried the soothing scent of lavender. Memories of her grandmother’s house and carefree, sun-drenched days fluttered through her mind. Days before her father died, and the darkness descended.

Abe took a final, vigilant sweep of the window before lying down on the floor. “Good night, Freya.”

“Night, Abe.”

She stared at the ceiling. Sleep was elusive, despite her bone deep weariness. His presence brought a sense of security. This mountain of a man, she now knew without doubt, would do anything in his power to keep her safe. But tonight, it wasn’t enough.

She wanted more.

“Abe.” She pulled the sheets up under chin. “Are you asleep?”

His response was immediate. “No.”

The sheets crumpled in her grip as she mustered the courage to say the words bouncing around in her mind. What if he said no? “Will you hold me?”

A rustle of blanket broke the silence. She dared not look toward the foot of the bed, instead hugging her arms close to her chest. Waiting. Wanting.

“Of course.” His voice was a resonant rumble. Soft footsteps padded across the floorboards before the bed dipped under his weight. He lay down next to her, and slid his arm around her waist, his touch igniting fire across her skin, even through the layers of clothing.

He pulled her toward him. She relaxed and allowed her body to mold against his. Scorching heat raced the length of her body, soothing the terror she had dared not admit for fear it would tear her apart, the terror that had taken root the moment the first intruder had stormed her lab.

And yet, even though she had asked him to hold her, her analytical mind searched for the comforting distance of facts and figures. “Did you know sixty-eight percent of people who engage in casual intimate contact remain good friends without further complications?”

“Good night, Freya.” His words were a low vibration against her skin. His breath skimmed her neck, his chin bumping her head, and as his breathing slowed, his arm grew heavy against her body, his heartbeat steady against her back.

It was no longer just an embrace. It was a shield, a declaration. Protection and possession intertwined.

Her analytical mind shut up and allowed her heart to speak.

Nothing had ever felt so good.

Ever.