Page 13 of When the Stars Rise

Perfect timing, Asher.

CHAPTER FIVE

Noah

DoesHayley have any fucking clue how many cold showers I take on the nights I sleep with her? Obviously not.

She’s grinding her ass against my erection, not on purpose. She’s still asleep. I know she’s still sleeping because she’s thrashing, and I’m trying to hold her down so she won’t hurt herself.

I’m an asshole for even having an erection. Night terrors arenoterotic. But when I woke up, I was already hard, and after this little wrestling match, I’mstillhard.

Fucking hell.

The door creaks open, and light spills from the hallway, illuminating Chris’ silhouette.

“It’s okay,” I tell him, suddenly conscious of how this might look. I’d flipped her over so she’s on her stomach and pinned to the mattress. “I’ve got this.”

As the words leave my mouth, Hayley rears back and head-butts my face. Involuntary tears spring to my eyes, and pain shoots across my cheekbone.

Motherfucker. That hurt.

Chris goes into the bathroom, and I hear the water running while I adjust our position so I’m spooning her with one leg clamping her thigh and my arm wrapped around her like a steel band to hold her in place.

He returns to the bedroom and presses a wet washcloth over Hayley’s forehead while I keep a firm hold until, eventually, the fight drains from her body, and she stops thrashing.

Hayley’s bodyguard retreats from the bedroom like a Ninja but now I’m trying my damnedest not to think of how often he comes into her bedroom to calm her down when I’m not around.

Even though I know he’s always been strictly professional, and I don’t think he’d cross the line, I can’t help but think about how close they are and how much time they spend together. And then there’s Asher Fucking Keating. I don’t even want to think about that asshole.

“Noah?”

“Yeah, it’s me. You’re okay.” She turns in my arms to face me. It’s too dark to see her clearly, but I can make out the outline of her face and the shape of her mouth.

“I don’t remember my dream. Was I bad?”

“Nah. You were fine.”

She laughs weakly. “You’re a terrible liar.”

I trace her jaw and cheekbone with my fingertips, then brush them over her lips before I remember that we’re not together and I’m just the guy who sleeps in her bed but doesn’t have sex with her. I withdraw my hand like her skin burns me and put some space between us.

“Has it been happening a lot?” I ask.

“No. Not really.”

Who’s lying now? I know her doctor prescribed Ambien, but I don’t think it’s doing her any favors. If I had any say in the matter, I’d flush all her pills down the toilet. I’d take herskydiving and scuba diving, and we’d hang out on the beach and soak up vitamin D. That’s my therapy. My remedy. My cure.

And it works like a charm. I sleep like a baby and wake up energized and ready for a new day. But she doesn’t believe me when I tell her it works better than any pill on the market. She’s too fixated on the thought of me dying.

“Do you think you can sleep?” I ask, trying to stifle a yawn.

“Go back to sleep. Sorry I woke you.” She rolls onto her back, and I have a feeling she’ll spend the rest of the night staring at the ceiling.

“Should we count sheep?”

She laughs softly. “That never works. Why don’t you sing me a lullaby?”

“I’m not the singer.”