Then we were in the hotel.

I was on the bed with him between my legs. Jamming into me.

No, no, no …

The terror wouldn’t end.

I fought.

Stop, stop, stop.

“Elizabeth, wake up!” Firm hands shook my shoulders.

No!

I came awake screaming.

I scrambled up to the headboard. My eyes bounced around the room.

My bed. My dresser. My apartment. Declan . Thank God.

I sucked in a shuddering breath. My hands wiped my eyes, feeling wetness.

“What happened?” I croaked as I scrubbed my face, trying to clear it.

He sat on the edge of my bed, and even in the dim light I could see his normally tanned face was white. “I heard you screaming from my room and came in through the balcony after I couldn’t tear down your front door. Thank God your balcony door was open. You were all twisted up in the sheets …” He stopped talking, a muscle working in his jaw.

I moved closer to his warmth and leaned my head against his shoulder. Inhaled. “You must think I’m a lunatic.”

He lifted a hand to cup my head. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I bit my lip at his kindness and snuggled into his arms more fully. “No. It—it’s nothing you want to know about. I just need some water.”

“Okay, I’ll get you some.” He left and went into the kitchen, where I heard him milling around and opening cabinets until he found a glass and filled it. He came back into the bedroom and handed it to me.

Feeling nervous and just plain old shy, I scrambled to find conversation. “Did you—uh—actually jump to my balcony from yours? Wasn’t that kind of dangerous?”

“Yes,” he said softly. “But your front door was locked. Maybe you should give me a key.”

Key? I laughed to hide my surprise. “You’re just a regular Superman, aren’t you?”

He shrugged, his expression giving me nothing.

I nodded.

Okay. Things were strained between us.

Obviously he was ready to go. I mean, I’d woken him up and he had classes tomorrow.

Silence ticked between us.

I kept it simple. “Thank you for coming over.”

He rubbed his jaw. “If you’re good then I should probably go—I guess?”

“I guess.”

Neither of us moved. “You don’t need anything else?” he asked.

I needed him . My body craved him. I was sick of seeing him for brief moments each day. I wanted more.

“No.”

“Mind if I use the front door?”

I smiled. “Sure.” We walked to the front door together, and he surprised me by reaching out and grabbing my hand on the way. His warm fingers stroked the tangled scars on my wrists.

He studied them. Looked back at me. “What happened?”

I swallowed. “I fell in love with the wrong guy.”

I waited for him to question me or get angry at my stupidity, but I shouldn’t have been surprised when he didn’t. This was Declan, and he wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met.

“I noticed them the night I showed you how to punch, but I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry for your pain,” he said, gazing down at the pink skin. “Your scars are beautiful. It means you survived. It means you’re here with me.” He kissed my wrist, light as a feather—and changed everything about us. “It’s my favorite part of you,” he said.

Big moments happen with the smallest of actions, and sometimes it’s not until later we connect the dots, but in that instant, I knew that somehow, someway Declan was going to own my heart. It terrified me and excited me all at the same time.

He brushed a finger down my cheek. “Elizabeth? Do you really want me to go? Because—because I don’t want to. It’s been a shit week and I’ve barely talked to you and—”

“I want you to stay,” I said softly.

Still holding hands, we went back to my darkened bedroom.

We got into bed together. Being careful of his bruises, I snuggled into his chest letting the warmth from his body seep into mine, banishing my nightmare. Wrapped up in a gorgeous body and tattoos, he was a heady sleeping aid. I wanted to yank my gown over my head, climb on top of him, and take him inside me. I wanted to ride him until all the bad memories were gone—but I didn’t. I settled for keeping my clothes on and pressing myself against his hot skin, pleasure flooding me at the way his hands roamed my back, brushing against the bottom of my shirt, his fingers massaging me.

His touch was sexual.