“You want to watch that Dragonballs show?”
I stopped in my tracks when he spoke.
“I’m curious now what a little kid with a monkey tail who can supposedly ‘kick ass’ looks like.”
Glancing back to make sure he wasn’t pulling my tail, I spotted Aiden sitting on the edge of his seat, ready to get up if I gave him the notice. I was dumbstruck for a second before reacting. I had to force myself not to smile like a lunatic. “It’s ‘Dragonball,’ big guy, and you don’t have to tell me twice.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I was sitting at my computer when the first massive lightning bolt hit. The house shook. The windows rattled. Wind howled, slapping the house’s siding. The height of the storm I’d seen the meteorologist on TV forecasting had finally come.
And I panicked, saving my work as quickly as I could so I could turn off my computer.
Then the next bolt hit, the light so bright right outside my window it seemed unreal, closer to a nuclear blast than an act of nature. The lights had no hope. Just like a candle going out, they were there one second and gone the next.
“Fuck!” I muttered to myself, already diving from my desk toward the bed, blind, slapping my hands around so I could find the nightstand. My knee found it first, and I cursed, grabbing the spot that I was sure was already turning into a bruise with one hand and finding the top drawer with the other. It didn’t take me long to find the small LED flashlight inside. I made sure it was always in the left corner, and sure enough, it was right there.
Flicking it on, I sucked in a deep breath before jumping back on the bed and sliding under the covers. The flashlight was the best thing money could buy; five hundred lumens for a contraption three inches long. I moved the bright beam around the ceiling and toward the open doorway, listening as the screaming winds outside got louder. I shivered.
It wasn’t like I hadn’t gotten a warning that a storm was coming in advance. It had been raining steadily for some time, but instead of the storm moving away, it had just gotten heavier and heavier. Great.
This was so stupid. I hated being so scared of the dark. I really did. It made me feel like a dumb little kid. But no matter how much I tried to tell myself it was okay, that I was fine…
That didn’t do anything.
I still shook. My breathing still got bottled up in my throat. I still wanted the lights to come back on.
“Vanessa? Where are you?” Aiden’s rough voice carried its way from down the hall. I could barely hear his footsteps as they got lost mixed in with the noise outside.
“In my room,” I called out, weaker than I ever would have wanted. “What are you doing awake?” Sleepy Pants had gone to bed at his usual time: nine. Three hours ago.
“The thunder woke me up.” Another big flash of lightning illuminated the body filling the doorway a moment later, and I flicked my flashlight at his legs.
His bare legs.
He was only wearing boxer briefs. There wasn’t a shirt over his chest. Aiden was standing in my doorway in just boxer briefs, his medallion around his neck, and muscles.
So many muscles.
Stop it. I needed to stop it right away.
“Jesus. How bright is that thing? Point it at the floor, would you?” he said in a voice that confirmed he’d been dead asleep just minutes ago. I flicked the light toward the ceiling instead. “You all right?”
“I’m okay,” I said, even as an unnecessary shiver racked my spine. “Just pissing my pants. No big deal.” The laugh that came out of my mouth sounded just as fake and awkward as it felt. I sounded like a crazy person.
The sigh he let out made it seem like he was completely putting himself out as he strode forward, around the side of the mattress before stopping, towering. “Scoot over.”
Scoot?
I wasn’t going to ask. I should, but I didn’t as my heart seemed to climb into my throat and take a seat.
I scooted. Neither one of us said a word as he climbed onto my bed and under the covers as if it was no big freaking deal, like this wasn’t the first time he’d done it. I didn’t let myself get all shy and prude-ish, or anywhere near it. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and I wasn’t going to say no to the other half of my paperwork getting into my bed when I’d rather not be by myself.
Lightning flashed brighter than bright through the two windows in my room once more before plunging the house into that eerie darkness that creeped me the hell out despite the beam of light aimed at the ceiling.
Without a shameful bone in my body, I wiggled over the foot between us until his elbow touched mine.
“Are you shaking?” he asked in a strange tone.
“Only a little bit.” I scooted an inch closer, soaking in the heat his body was throwing off.
Aiden sighed like I was torturing him while all I’d done was mind my own business in bed. “You’re fine.”
I moved the light in the shape of a circle across the ceiling. “I know.”
Another great big sigh only possible from a man his size made its way out of his throat. “Come here.” His voice seemed to rumble across the sheets.
“Where?” I was already next to him. I rolled onto my side.
“Closer, Van,” he ordered, exasperated.
I wasn’t anywhere near being worried about how weird it was to be in bed with someone who hadn’t even given me a real hug once in the entirety of the time we’d known each other. I definitely wasn’t thinking about how he was mostly naked and how I only had underwear and a tank top on.
So I moved over, right on over until I realized he wasn’t on his back any longer. He was on his side. I practically pressed up against him, my face right between his pecs, my arms between my chest and the middle of his.
He was warm, and he smelled wonderful, like the expensive coconut oil and herbal soap he used. The same stuff I used to order him from online once upon a time when things between us had been so different. I couldn’t begin to imagine that Aiden—that same man who had spent a minimum of five days a week keeping me at arm’s length five months ago—was in my bed right then because he knew about my phobia.
Later when I was capable of it, I’d think about him waking up and coming to my room, but right then wasn’t the time.
He shifted a little, just a little. The bristles covering his chin brushed my forehead for a split second. He made a noise, a soft one, a relaxed one, and his facial hair touched me again, lingering just a moment longer on my skin. “How have you survived the last twenty years being terrified of the dark?” His question was so cottony, so pliable, I opened my mouth to answer before I thought twice about it.
“I always have a flashlight,” I explained. “And except for these last two years, I’ve always lived with someone. Plus, it’s rare that I’m ever in complete darkness. You learn how to avoid it.”
“You lived with a boyfriend?” he asked casually, his breath warm on my hair. If his tone was a little too casual, I didn’t pick up on it.
“Uh, no. I’ve never ‘lived’ with one. I’ve only had three and it never came up.” I locked my gaze on that shiny gold medal draped high over his left pectoral. “Have you ever lived with a girlfriend?”