Page 19 of Reclaimed

“Honestly, I thought I was going to have to beg.”

“I’d never make you beg.” His hand hovers protectively over the small of my back as we climb the steps. The heat of him settles some of my restlessness. “Not tonight anyway,” he murmurs.

When I enter my house for the second time, I shiver for an entirely different reason.

Aiden grabs my hand and tows me gently to my couch. He palms my stomach, and with a gentle push, eases me back.

I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth at the unexpected contact. His hand is warm where it rests against my baby bump.

Can he feel it? Surely not, but I don’t have an easily recallable memory where a man has ever touched my stomach so openly, pregnant or not.

Aiden doesn’t even know about the baby, so his placement is an interesting choice all things considered. The fact he doesn’t shy away from my size, and my most noticeable area, is a welcome surprise.

“You wait here,” he says slowly, drawing the fuzzy throw blanket from the backrest and laying it over my lap. “I’ll give the house a walk-through.”

“Thank you.”

He rakes his gaze over me, looking as though he wants to say more.

“I’ll be right back.”

The sound of his footsteps gradually dampens until I can’t hear them at all. Embarrassment creeps in, edging out the irrational fear.

Aiden returns a few minutes later and guides a tall glass of cool water into my hand.

“Tell me what you’re thinking about.” He settles his long frame into the seat beside me.

“I just got scared.” I stare down at the water between my hands. “I let that fear control me, and now I’m super fucking embarrassed.”

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re safe, the house is clear, and I’m happy I could check that out for you so you could sleep soundly tonight. But I still want you to talk to me.”

“What about?”

“Tell me what the sheriff said.”

I roll the glass between my palms. “He told Manny, my boss, that there’s been five strippers murdered in the last two months across the state. They were all between the ages of twenty-five to thirty-five, and they all were single females who lived alone.”

“Were any of them killed close to here?”

I deposit my glass on the coffee table and curl under the blanket. “The closest was about a hundred miles away.”

“So not in the immediate area.”

A swift bubble of irritation wells inside my chest. “Sorry for acting so irrational.”

“Hey, stop.” His hand finds mine over the blanket and he gives it a gentle squeeze. “You aren’t being irrational. The news is scary and surprising. It’s easy to let that fear overtake you. I’m not judging you.”

“Yeah right,” I mutter and look away.

“A few months ago I was shot in the woods behind the Sanctuary. Despite the guy going to prison, I haven’t been able to walk the property since.”

Surprise softens my tone. “Is that really true?”

“It is.”

My heart sinks at his guilty expression. “I’m sure you’ll make it back there when you’re ready.”

“Doesn’t make me feel any less irrationally worried about it.” He lifts a knowing eyebrow. “Your reaction is normal. Healthy even. We all need a good dose of our own mortality every now and again. How else are we supposed to determine what in life is worth taking the risk?”

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