Recovery by Nicole Dykes (best time to read books .txt) 📗

I don’t want to be worn down and give in to his charm. I want to keep my head down and just be, just barely exist at the bare minimum until I get far away from other people. Until I can just not care anymore.

Because caring leads to pain, and I've had enough of that to last a lifetime.

“What’s going on in that head?” He’s gazing up at me, and I have the urge to tuck myself next to him and then bury my head in next and escape that way.

I look away from him and up to a shelf on the wall, a shelf with a shitload of trophies. Holy. Shit.

“What the hell? Are you a champion of something?” I look closer. “Football?”

Huh. Makes sense with his build, I guess. I look down at his handsome face to see that his expression has darkened. “No.”

That’s my line.

“No, you never played football? Whose trophies are those?”

It’s dark, and I can’t make out the writing on them.

He sits up, clearing his throat. “Doesn’t matter.”

I could have sworn this man was an open book, someone with nothing to hide. But as I look into his eyes now, I see I definitely misjudged him. “You must have been good. That’s a lot of trophies.”

He shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders, and I recognize the look in his eyes. He’s pleading with me to drop it. “I’m good at a lot of things.”

His deep voice, husky and full of gravel makes that sentence extremely sexual. The fiery look in his eyes only adds to that. He looks like he wants to kiss me, and God, I want him to. I take a deep breath just as his lips meet mine.

I shouldn’t let this happen.

This is far too close. What the hell am I doing?

I’m about to push him away, but I feel his hand on my hip, strong and sure. And then his tongue sweeps into my mouth. And damn it, I just turn myself over to the moment. Because it’s been so long since I've kissed anyone, since I've felt kind hands on me. So I lean into him. My cold hand pushes against the warm skin on his chest, feeling only the hard muscle.

We kiss with intensity and heat that I don’t stop to question. I’m not sure my body has ever been this ready to be touched by another person. I kiss him deeper, starting to push him back onto the bed, but I feel his large hand move over mine, both resting on his chest. He pulls back. “Mya.” He sounds breathless as I look at him in a daze.

“What’s wrong?”

He looks like he’s searching for the right words. “I umm . . .” I don’t want to think. I want him to kiss me, but he doesn’t. “I could barely get you to like me this last week. I’ve gotten maybe a few words from you, and now you’re kissing me like maybe you want more to happen.”

“So go with it,” I whisper. I mean, he kissed me. Did he think I would push him away? Probably.

“I don’t want to be your mistake.”

“You’ve never had a one-night stand before?” I question, pretty sure I already know the answer.

“I have. A couple of times, but you’re not that. At the very least, you’re my roommate.”

I roll my eyes in a huff, frustrated and not even sure why. I don’t want anyone touching me. Maybe I should remind myself of that. I don’t want to get close to anyone. “So, you’re saying you wouldn’t respect me in the morning?”

I try a joke, and it doesn’t land. Maybe I need to stop with the jokes.

“You don’t need my respect for validation, and if I thought this is really what you wanted, I wouldn’t fucking hesitate.”

I’m so angry I could scream because that’s the most perfect thing any man has ever said to me. My eyes fill with tears, and I hate him for it. He pulls me into him and tucks my head to his chest. Tears stream down my face onto his skin, but he just holds me to him.

He moves us so our heads are on the pillows and our bodies under his covers, but he doesn’t stop holding me. His much larger body holds mine so my face is against his chest, wrapped in his arms, and I just cry.

I just let it out, and I don’t worry about the consequences. I weep into the arms of this man who is practically a stranger to me, and he lets me. It’s a whole new kind of escape for me, one I wouldn’t normally let myself do, but I need it.

For once, I give in.

Just for tonight.

Oh, fuck. She’s in my bed. Mya is still curled up to my body, both of us still under the covers. Me only in boxers, her in that fucking thin t-shirt.

She looks peaceful as she sleeps, but I know she’s probably anything but. I kissed her. I fucked up and kissed her. I know it was a mistake and not because she’s a vulnerable woman who can’t take care of herself.

Exactly the opposite.

She’s strong and confident. Fucking amazing. And if anyone was vulnerable last night, at least before I kissed her, it was me. Fucking football trophies. I need to put them away, maybe throw them away. But for whatever reason, I leave them there to stare back at me. Remind me.

Mya stirs next to me, her large, beautiful eyes gazing up at me, looking slightly confused, maybe a little embarrassed. “I fell asleep?”

She did. After she started to sob in my chest and I held her, just letting her finally express some of the emotion inside her, the crying stopped slowly, and soon I could hear her breathing even out, lost in deep sleep. And then, I held her to me and closed my own eyes, drifting away.

“Yeah.”

“I slept with you all night?” She looks freaked