Page 39 of Blackwood

He grabbed my wrists and gave me a hard stare. “Are you kidding? You are the worst temptation. When I’m near you, something short circuits in my brain. Fuck.” He pressed his lips together, as if forcing himself to stop talking. “Let’s just say that every depraved fantasy I’ve had since you came knocking on my door involves a red coat.”

The tips of my ears began to burn, and I stared at his mouth. It took every ounce of willpower I owned to keep from kissing him.

Instead of giving in, I asked something that I’d been wondering for days. “Did you love her—Joan?” I cringed at my question as soon as it rolled off my tongue. It was none of my business, and I should have been asking more questions about my father. Instead, I was waiting for Garrett to tell me if he loved someone else.

He didn’t answer for a long time, the silence building up like bricks in a foundation. After a while, he took a deep breath and blew it out. “I thought I did. Now, though…”

Why did everything in me vibrate to whatever frequency he was putting out? I wanted to run my fingers down the back of his hand, hug him, do anything that would connect us as more than two people in an old house, each haunted by our own ghosts.

“Now, I’m not so sure.” He pulled away from me and stood. “You need to rest.”

“Don’t go.” The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. Maybe I’d lost more blood than I realized, or maybe I was foolishly letting my guard down. Either way, I didn’t want him to lock himself away in his room, to withdraw from me despite what we’d shared. “Will you stay with me?”

He backed up a step. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I won’t hurt you.” I gave him a wry smile and pushed away the sting of his refusal.

“I think you know that’s not what I’m worried about.” He scanned the shape of my body beneath the blanket.

“You said you’d never force a woman, remember?”

“I won’t. I’d never take something that wasn’t freely given.” He backed up another step.

“You’re afraid.” I smirked as amusement flitted through me. “You’re afraid of me. Or what’s the word—intimacy. You’re afraid of intimacy.”

“I could pin you and rope you before you had a chance to scream.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“You’re not afraid to do those things to me, no, but you’re afraid to sleep here with me.” I grinned. “I want to cuddle.”

He flinched. “Cuddle?”

“Yeah.” I flipped the blanket and the sheet off the other side of the bed. “Come on. Get in. Unless you’re scared?”

“I’m not scared, but cuddling may be a hard limit for me. Aftercare, yes. Cuddling, no.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Aftercare?”

“After a session in the woods, I would hold Melinda as she came down from the high.”

“And a hard limit, that’s—”

“Something I won’t do.”

“Right.” I grinned. “Because you’re scared.”

“Not scared.” He shook his head.

“I have an idea. Let’s have a safe word. I’ve seen enough movies to know that’s a thing, right?”

“Yes, that’s a thing.” He shrugged. “But I’m still not getting into bed with you without fucking you.”

Jesus.He had no qualms expressing what he wanted.

I wasn’t going to let his directness rattle me. “So you’re afraid of spending the night with me without fucking me?”

“Stop saying I’m afraid.” His voice lowered an octave, and heat pooled in my stomach.

I put on my best poker face. “If you get scared, just call out your safe word. What is it?”

---