Page 12 of Cherished

“That’s not why I brought you here, Mia,” I finally hiss.

“Why did you?” she asks gently. Firelight flickers over her gorgeous face and sparks in her pretty eyes. “Why did you bring me here?”

Because I’m crazy about her. Because I desire her more than any man has ever desired a woman. But I can’t say that. I won’t do that to her and lock her into this prison with me.

“Because I can’t abide watching good people get taken advantage of,” I growl. “Because you’re goodness and light in a city and a world of darkness, Mia. And I couldn’t stand by and let it snuff out that light.”

She looks at me, and I see the unspoken words in her eyes. She’s smart, and she knows there’s more than what I’m saying. I think she even wants me to say it. I can see the confusion writ on her pretty face. I do want to tell her everything, but I know I can’t.

At least right now, I’ve got her here. She’s safe, she’s here, and she’s close to me. If I tell her more—like that I’m a shut in, she’ll be gone, and I know it. If she’s gone, I can’t protect her, and so this is how it has to be. To keep her safe, I’ll keep myself away from her, even if it kills me not touch her, or to taste those lips again.

“So what now?” she whispers.

“Stay here.” It’s meant as a kindness. It comes out as a command. But Mia just smiles, and that brings a warmth to my heart.

“You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

She giggles because she thinks I’m being hyperbolic. I’m not.

“When you say stay here…”

“I mean this is your home now, Mia,” I growl. “You can call your aunt to tell her, or I’m happy to. I’ll also be paying the rent you were paying her until she gets back, so there’s nothing for her to worry about.”

“Aside from me living in the penthouse of a mysterious man?”

I smile. “Aside from that.”

Mia laughs. “So you’re saying I should be worried about being here with you?” She grins, and I know she’s kidding. But it still takes all of my willpower not to answer, “not so long as you find a magical way to stop tempting me so goddamn much.”

She yawns, and I smile and sit back.

“It’s really beautiful here,” she says softly. She looks up at the sky, but there aren’t any stars to see; not under these New York City lights. It, like the gas fire in front of us, are the small reminders that this garden paradise I’ve built is an imitation of what I really want and where I really want to be.

“Yes, it is,” I growl back. She yawns again, and I smile when I see her eyelids start to droop. It’s been a long damn day, especially for her. So I sit in silence, and I watch her fall asleep. If I had my every wish, there would be stars above for her to see. The fire would be a real, wood-stocked campfire. And she’d be here, in my lap and in my arms.

For now, though, I content myself with the version I have. The fire crackles, and I watch as Mia slips into sleep. I watch her for maybe half an hour, feeling my heart swell. I might be keeping myself from being with her the way I truly want. But having her even here is like opening a window in a dark room.

Finally, I stand. I scoop her into my arms, ignoring the throb of my cock at the scent of her hair. My hands tighten on her, and I force myself to ease up, lest I wake her. I bring her to her room. Tucking her in and actually walking away without slipping in beside her is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

She’s here. She’s mine. I just can’t touch her, and mar that innocence with my shadow. Somehow, I’m going to have to find a way to do that without going completely insane.

7

Mia

It’s bizarre,living with a man like Hunter. From the moment I wake up in that guest room bed, it’s like he’s reading my thoughts and meeting my every wish before I even ask.

I crashed hard last night out by the fire, and I can only assume it was Hunter who brought me inside and put me to bed. The idea of him carrying me in those big arms has me tingling all over, and I’m actually mad that I was asleep for it. I think of being cradled against that muscular chest, and a heat blooms through my core like wildfire.

I shower, and when I step out of the bedroom, I blink in surprise. The suitcases I hadn’t gotten around to unpacking yet are stacked neatly against a wall, and empty. I glance into the huge walk-in closet and go to one of the built in-dressers. When I open the drawers, I gasp.

All my clothes are folded and stacked neatly in the drawers—t-shirts, jeans, sweaters, skirts, all of it. I open a door next to the drawers, and my heart beats quickly at the site of my blouses, skirts, and dresses hanging perfectly on hangers.

Something occurs to me. I turn back to the dresser drawers and open the thinnest one at the top. My face turns crimson. There, neatly folded and layer-stacked, are my panties and my bras.

I suppose it could be that Hunter has daytime staff who come in. It could be that a maid has unpacked my stuff for me. But I also can’t imagine Hunter being the type of man, even as rich as he is, having “staff.” And that only means that he’s the one that put my stuff away for me. It means that Hunter is the one who plucked my panties out of my suitcase and neatly folded them in the drawer.

---