Page 29 of Silent Heart

I rubbed his upper arms. “It’s over, we’re safe. And you made me sing, crazy man.” I laughed. “Let’s dry you off and see if we can’t find a way to distract you.”

Murmuring soothing words, I tugged him upstairs, turning off lights as we went. If the downstairs seemed staged and fake for the cidiots summering here in years past, the rooms on the second floor felt empty. Sure, there were larger pieces of furniture, but otherwise, the spaces were cold, yawning tombs. There weren’t any touches of homeyness or signs a family lived here. Even the room that had his stuff seemed just another unused space. It was the phone on the nightstand that tipped me off.

“Another trendy grey comforter, would you look at that,” I chattered, raising my voice to talk louder than the storm. I tugged Kole into the bathroom and turned on both the sink tap and the shower. The more background noise the better. I considered playing white noise on my phone, but the darn thing was nearly out of battery plus it was damp.

“Stay right here while I find us something dry,” I instructed.

I kept the door open as I padded around his room. Kole stood in the doorway, laser focused on me but staying put. His phone was on a charging pad, so I scooted it over and set mine down in its place. The screen of his phone lit up. I tapped it.

The words were in a different language—a different alphabet. I frowned, looking between the phone and the stony figure looming in the doorway.

What is this?

Shaking my head, I found us a dry change of clothing. I nudged past him, jabbering and chirping about strawberry picking, my favorite books to read, the shows I binged on TV, and anything else that popped into my head. With a fluffy towel, I proceeded to pat him down. I started with one hand, slowly letting time pass as I examined his ink. It was gorgeous. The artist was extremely talented. I shot a glance to the middle of his pants but felt guilty for checking him out while he was like this.

Still, I couldn’t help but wonder.

When I wiped him down the best I could, I handed him the dry clothes. He stood there, holding them and not moving.

“Oh, come on,” I protested. “You made it around the lake but can’t put on a dry tee?”

The idea of dressing him stirred more of that warmth inside.

He’s not in the right head space.I huffed at the unfairness but vowed to do the ethical thing. I would just dress him, and not look more than necessary.

“Like this.” I tugged my own shirt over my head, dropping it on the vanity.

Kole mirrored my actions.

“That’s it, now these.” I proceeded to change, keeping my eyes chest-level. I’d already seen the beauty that was his chest, all carved muscle and impressive ink.

What would he do if I leaned forward, pressed my lips against the warm skin? Slid my fingers over his body?

Sighing, I shimmied out of my clothes and tugged on the only pair of sweats he had. Kole copied. Only when I didn’t offer him a pair of sweats, only the boxer shorts, he frowned.

“You don’t have another pair, silly,” I laughed softly.

Eventually, I got him into the things. I fully intended to go downstairs, but since he seemed comfortable up here, and there were minimal windows to shake in the booms, we stayed.

I tugged him from the bathroom, made sure an alarm was set on my phone and then patted the bed.

As he curled into me, warmth pulsed between my legs. “I wish you weren’t in a trance, gargoyle.”

Determined to stay awake with him, I yawned. This feltright.Not the storm or this situation, but the deeper connection. Being here with the man who waded through the dark to find me. His strong presence chased away the turbulent thoughts and left me warm, relaxed, and calm. Sleep tugged me away.

Chapter 13 – Kolya

Something warm and soft curled into me. It took too many minutes to swim to consciousness, but when I did, I froze. My heart hammered in my throat. That was a woman next to me, but it was too dark to make out any distinguishing features. I ground my molars, wondering what kind of stupidity I got myself into this time.

This was unprecedented. Usually, I tended toward violence when I blacked out. Even with all the black-ops-style jobs I performed over the years, sanctioned, and also the unsanctioned ones, I hadn’t hurt a woman. But I wasn’t myself when I was unconscious. It was impossible to say what I would do. My mind imagined the worst possible ideas. Chest knotted tight with worry, I examined her. Not only was she breathing peacefully, she wasn’t damp and sticky, which made me hope she hadn’t been bleeding.

Did I really find some random hookup?

That hurt a specific place in my chest, as the idea of a very special little water sprite came to mind.

Without any light, it was impossible to say whose bed I found myself in, but my body didn’t seem to care. My dick was hard and pressed tight into her side. He begged to grind against her smooth flesh. She snoozed in the crook of my arm, cheek resting on my chest and leg draped over both my thighs.

She’s clothed.

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