Page 60 of Married to a SEAL

Chapter 18

Rebecca awoke with a start, Patrick tossing and turning beside her, the sheets twisted around him. He mumbled something in his sleep, thrashing around as a strong breeze blew in through the open bedroom window.

She sat up, glancing at the clock on the nightstand. 3:04 a.m.

“Patrick,” she said quietly, clutching his thick forearm as he rustled again.

“No,” he grit out in his sleep. “Look out!”

“Patrick!” she said more insistently. “Wake up!”

Patrick was sitting up in an instant, his eyes quickly scanning the darkened room as he held an arm out protectively in front of her. She clutched onto his muscled arm, feeling the tendons bulging from beneath his skin. He was pounds of solid muscle beneath tanned, toned flesh, the type of man who could intimidate anyone without a single word, but in the dark at this moment, he’d been the one frightened.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice gruff. “What’s wrong?”

“You were having a nightmare,” she whispered.

A clap of thunder sounded, causing her to jump, followed by the sound of heavy rain pounding down. It felt soothing, somehow, listening to the cleansing sound of the rain hitting the ground from inside their bedroom. Like they were safe in their own little cocoon while the outside world went on without them.

Literally sheltered from the storm.

“Hell,” he said, scrubbing a hand across his face. He took a deep breath.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he muttered. “Are you? You just jumped a foot in the air after that thunder.”

“I’m fine. I’m just worried about you. That’s the second time you’ve woken up this week.”

“No need to be worried,” he ground out. “Just a bad dream.”

The bed shifted as he stood up, the moonlight coming in from the window illuminating his solid, six-foot-three-inch frame. The light went on in their bathroom a moment later, and she heard water running from the sink.

Rebecca stood, suddenly feeling chilled in her strappy camisole and sleep shorts, and crossed the room to close the bedroom window before the rain got in. Ironically, she used to be the one with nightmares—originally after her first husband had been killed in an accident on the bridge from Virginia Beach to Norfolk. That long span of bridge and tunnels to get to Virginia Beach still gave her chills—but at least she no longer woke up with nightmares from it.

When she’d met Patrick, all those bad dreams had subsided. He’d swept into her life and unintentionally swept her right off her feet.

Even after the incident with her stalker. The hang-ups at her office. The car sitting on their street. The man Abby had spotted watching them in their front yard.

Her blood had run cold at the idea of someone harming her or her daughter.

But Patrick had been there for her.

Protected her and her daughter.

Caught the man intent on causing them harm.

And now?

She almost didn’t know what to do with him being the one up at night.

It had been gut-wrenching when the CO had called to let her know about Patrick’s injury. The world had gone in slow motion until she’d gotten word he was awake. That he’d be okay.

She blew out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding, then padded into the bathroom to find Patrick splashing cold water on his face. The lightweight cotton pajama bottoms he had on hung low from his trim waist, and the tanned, toned flesh of his upper torso was bare.

Hours of PT left him chiseled and sculpted, the envy of any man. But his jaw was clenched, his eyes filled with concern.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked softly. “You’ve been having nightmares ever since the accident.”

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