Page 8 of Guarded By Atlas

To be honest, I wasn’t completely opposed to the idea of staying at the clubhouse when the club’s president suggested it. But I refused to take leave from work. I want to be with my patients; I love my job and the facility residents.

The other option was to move back in with my parents for a couple of days while the Rebels search for the kidnappers, but I didn’t want my presence to endanger my parents’ lives, so I stayed here. Since getting the all-clear from Doc—a man who looked like no doctor I’ve ever met—Chelsea and Scarlett have been on a mission to pamper me.

Which is probably part of the reason I haven’t been getting much sleep. On the first night, I was too scared to sleep alone, and the girls kept me company for the night with gossip and stories about the MC and its men. I turned down their company on the second and third nights, hoping the silence of the room would allow me to rest. No dice.

So here I am, sleepy wandering into the clubhouse kitchen in search of some tea to help me sleep.

“You’re up.”

I jump at the deep voice, turning around so fast I nearly fall. “Oh, you scared me,” I heave, placing a hand on my chest, feeling the hard pounding of my heart, but… that isn’t entirely due to being startled. Some of it has to do with the man standing in the club’s kitchen in gray sweatpants and a dark, sleeveless shirt. The same man whose gaze I’ve felt on me around the clubhouse over the past couple of days, but it’s the first time I’ve heard his voice since my arrival. Every time I’ve seen him, I’ve been surrounded by people. The clubhouse is like a hive, always buzzing.

There’s no one else around now though.

It’s just us two in the kitchen. The realization sends something swirling in my stomach. Something dangerously close to…arousal.

“It’s half an hour past midnight,” he says, leaning against the massive island, watching me. Shadows play in those green eyes, making them unreadable. “Are you okay?”

No. No, I’m not okay for several reasons, but I suppose that’s not the response he wants to hear from me, so I force a winning smile and nod.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Way better than I was when you found me.” His expression is blank, and my smile falls a little. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to thank you for that day. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t found me. Well, I think I have a guess what might have happened if those men had returned, but you arrived before they did, and I owe you my life—”

“Breathe, sweetheart.”

A hand clasps my jaw, and I have no idea when he moved, but the next thing I know, he’s standing in front of me… touching me.

“I’m fine,” I pant.

“You’ve been saying that for days,” he says, those green eyes making my heart flutter.

“It’s true,” I insist.

“And yet here you are, alone in the kitchen at midnight.”

I look away. “I just came to grab something to drink.”

“There’s a fully stocked fridge and pantry in the apartment they put you in,” he counters, and I almost feed him moreexcuses, argue his point, but I realize I don’t want to. He’s the only one who knows the state I was in tied up in that closet. I haven’t been able to talk about it. With him, I know I don’t have to pretend to be okay, but I can’t find the words to express my feelings, conflicted as they are. “Marie—”

“I can’t sleep,” I choke out. “I keep hearing the sound of the van door opening and shutting in my face. I see the men in my dreams whenever I do manage to fall asleep. I’m scared to take the sleeping pills if it means being trapped in nightmares.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he rasps, pulling me into his arms and hugging me close. I bury my face in his chest and allow myself to be soothed by his scent, comforted by those strong arms. “You’re safe here.”

I sigh when Atlas rubs a hand up and down my back, dipping low and nearly touching my butt, but not quite. A strong, sudden arousal grips me, and I burrow deeper into him, biting back a whimper when my nipples pebble painfully behind my nightgown. I move a little, swallowing a gasp when the aching points rub against his chest.

Christ, what’s wrong with me?

This man is comforting me. I shouldn’t… No, it’s wrong to think of this moment as anything other than innocent, but my senses are sharply tuned to his warm body and that soothing scent that is unique to him, one I now associate with safety. His deep voice that silences the demons in my head.

I try to take my mind off my aching nipples and the pulsing spot between my legs. Focus on anything but these mortifying reactions of my body to a man’s touch. Tohistouch.

“Um…I’ve seen you around, but how come you never approached me to say anything?”

Atlas pulls back from the embrace, and I bite back a disappointed whine, doing my best to hide my beaded nipples by folding my arms over my chest.

“I didn’t want to scare you,” he says.

“Why would I be scared of you?”

“Most people are.” He chuckles at the confusion knitting my brows. “I’m a big guy with tattoos and scars on my face; it’s only natural that people would be afraid of me.”

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