Page 52 of Take Hold of Me

Emilie

My body is jellyafter our epic lovemaking session, and I fall into the deepest sleep of my life almost immediately. An unintelligible shout wakes me. Next to me, Wills kicks the blankets off his naked body, uncovering mine as well. I bolt upright and shake his shoulders.

“Wills! Wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”

He dislodges my hands. In an unrecognizable voice, he growls, “Drop the gun!”

Mon Dieu. He is dripping in sweat, dreaming about the stalker. What should I say? As my internal debate rages, he pins me to the bed beneath him.

“Wills!”

In response, his fingers dig into my upper arms. “I’ll make you pay for what you did.”

At his words, my body goes cold. I scream his name over and over, then kick his shin, the only area to which I have access.

He stills. Blinks rapidly. Then, wide-eyed, shakes his head. “Emilie. What?” He flings himself away from me, his arm over his eyes. “Christ.”

I roll my shoulders. Turning on my side to face the tormented man beside me, I whisper, “Do you have nightmares often?”

He remains immobile. “Sometimes.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No,” is his clipped response.

The depth of his trauma petrifies me. “You should see someone. A therapist can help—”

In a burst of motion, he jumps out of bed and looks around for his clothes. While grabbing his jeans, he says, “I’m fine. I don’t need a therapist.”

“What are you doing? Come back to bed.” I pat the mattress. “I know you won’t hurt me.”

His eyes travel the length of my body. He swallows, and in that instant, I know he is at war within himself. I open my arms to him.

His hands ball into fists. “You’re in over your head, Emilie. I could’ve hurt you.” He shoves his legs into his jeans.

“No, Wills. Stay. We can talk about it.”

“And then what? You can kiss my demons and make them go away?” He laughs, an empty sound that causes my breath to lodge in the back of my throat. “I don’t think so.”

He zips his jeans and heads for the door, picking up his shirt along the way. Before I can manage another word, he is gone.

I collapse onto the bed. How did our fabulous night turn into this? I know in my bones that Wills could not physically hurt me. I just need to convince him of this fact.

One thing is for sure, though. I will never wake him up again.

Sunlight streamsin from the windows overlooking the ocean. Memories of our time in the hammock and in this bed flood my brain. I shift, the delicious soreness between my legs bringing a satisfied smile to my face.

Which slides away when I remember his nightmare from early this morning. I glance at his empty side of the bed and sigh.

We had such a breakthrough last night. He was so sweet and loving. We need to get back on track and figure out how to move forward.

Checking the clock, there is plenty of time before we need to head out to the airport. I refuse to let him wallow with just his demons for company.

After showering, I head to his hotel room. Standing outside his door, my arms and legs tingle in anticipation of his reaction. I raise my chin and knock. A minute later, the door opens and Wills stands at the threshold wearing only a pair of shorts. In this light, the dusting of blond hair on his arms and legs seems almost golden. He is a living, breathing sculpted work of art rivaling those in the Louvre. With so much more depth. And pain.

Employing bravado that I do not feel, I ask, “May I come in?”

His hand flexes around the door, then he opens it wide. Sending up a prayer of thanks, I enter his room. It has a sofa and a large bed, and the TV plays “Ninja Heroes.”

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