Page 78 of Undertow

I close my eyes, trying to breathe.

“Are you the brave warrior willing to put himself in danger time and again for others?”

Yes.

“Are you the guy who makes me laugh? Challenges my intellect in a way no one has in a long time? The one who makes me burn from head to toe from a single touch?”

I shake my head.

“You are,” she corrects. I feel her warmth against my chest, the pressure of her arms around my neck when she settles close. “You are, Shaw. I know you are.”

But I’m not.

I’m not Shaw, and I’m not good. I’m weak. Too weak to fight both of us when she rests her lips against the sting on my cheek.

“I don’t care who you are,” she whispers. “You’re mine now.”

I’ve never watcheda woman sleep.

Sure, I’veseenthem sleep. Heard, felt, waited, but neverwatched.

But here, in the quiet glow of the morning sun, I can’t look away from Julia’s serene expression. Everything in me wants to reach out and brush her cheek, feel the softness of her skin, the warmth of her breath. But I won’t risk waking her. I don’t think I could handle her distaste when she realizes I’m still in her bed. I’ll slip away soon, long before she learns she forgot to send me back to the couch after we had sex.

They usually want me gone before the moon hits its peak. I’m an indulgence, aregret, discarded like the empty room service tray or used towel on the bathroom floor. Ushered out to avoid the wrath of jealous partners or the embarrassment of being caught in a sordid moment of weakness. Sometimes they even try to pay me like a fucking sex worker, and I have to hold a polite smile through the humiliating exchange. They wouldn’t offer if they knew the real cost of the encounter.

But Julia.

God, if I never had to leave her, I wouldn’t. When she looks at me…

I shudder and force myself up before I get lost.

It’s not real.

You’re just a tool.

A weapon.

You’re a lie.

I swing my legs over the edge of the mattress, trying to remain as quiet as possible. I’ve just leaned down to scoop my shorts off the floor when I feel a hand on my back.

“Shaw?”

I clench my eyes shut, bracing for the fallout. “Hey. Yeah, um… sorry. I was just?—”

She grabs my arm, forcing me around, and...

She’s smiling?

Not just smiling. Her eyes are relaxed, gentle. Filled with… want.

I don’t know what to do as she drags me back to the soft sheets. I settle on my back, flinching when she curls into my side. Her arm slides over my chest, and I can’t help my own from latching around her and pulling her tight. I bury my nose in her hair, my lungs burning as I breathe her in. She must be able to feel my pounding heart.

“This is nice,” she murmurs, her voice still hoarse with sleep.

How? I’m just… me. Giving nothing.Doingnothing.

“What did you want to be when you grew up?” she asks, running her fingers along my side.

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