Chapter Fifteen

Leah

Istanbul

“You’re going too fast!” I screamed. Why did I even bother? He never listened to me.

“Loosen up, Leah,” Brian said, shooting me a side-eye as we approached the curve. “I want to see how the new tires hold.”

“Stop! I know how this ends. Please don’t!”

But he didn’t slow.

I closed my eyes against the sound of the tires on the pavement, and my body detached from the motion of the car, but my mind knew it all vividly.

We destroyed the guardrail and plummeted.

The scream I heard was my own but not.

I blessedly missed the fall, even the impact when we hit the first tree. As I opened my eyes, my stomach dropped.

Yes, here—this was where the nightmare always started.

I turned my head and saw Brian, his head slumped forward, blood pouring from his abdomen where part of the tree that braced us skewered him. I knew what I had to do—what I always had to do when I found myself here, what took me eighteen hours to find the courage to do the first time.

I didn’t need to try my door handle to know that it was jammed, or turn in my seat to know I couldn’t make it up to the rear window without upsetting the balance of the car.

Maybe if I’d realized that it wouldn’t work, that I’d have to crawl over Brian’s body, I would have spared my legs.

Brian turned toward me, his head at a macabre angle, blood dripping from his dead, opaque eyes and ruined mouth, and I screamed, raw and painfully.

“You know what you have to do,” he rasped.

And I did. The nightmare never ended until I actually did it.

“Leah!” he yelled…but it sounded all wrong.

“Leah, baby, it’s okay.” His voice broke through the nightmare. Paxton. “Wake up, Firecracker.”

I sucked in a lungful of air, lurching forward and farther into Paxton’s arms. They wrapped around me, strong and secure, while I buried my face in his neck, breathing in his scent, feeling his heartbeat with my hand against his naked chest.

“It’s okay,” he repeated, stroking one hand down my hair while the other cupped the base of my neck.

“Nightmare,” I mumbled into his neck, trying to calm my breathing to match his.

“I figured,” he answered, his chin resting on the top of my head. He’d wrapped one of his legs over my hips, cocooning me in safety and warmth, like he’d known exactly what I needed.

“Want to talk about it?” he offered.

I shook my head. There was no need to let him witness the freak show of my past. “I have them sometimes,” I admitted, wanting to give him something. “Especially when I’m stressed out.”

“Okay,” he said, still stroking my hair, my back, in wide, soothing motions. “Just know that if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”

I nodded, but there was zero chance in hell I was going there. Paxton flung himself off ramps, snowboarded down avalanche-prone mountains, skydived for fun. He was reckless, fearless, and not only knew the limits of his body but pushed it there every single day. There was no way he’d understand the fear that paralyzed me that night—or the next day—the moments that I’d nearly chosen to give in to gravity and simply let go.

My heart pounded like I was still in that ravine, scared to move in case I fell farther. I breathed deep, taking in the scent of Paxton’s warm skin to erase the metallic memory of blood.

Then I pressed a kiss to his neck.

He inhaled sharply. “Leah.”

“Paxton,” I answered, pressing another openmouthed kiss to his neck.

His fingers tightened in my hair, but he didn’t pull me away. I moved up, tasting under his jaw and savoring the low groan that came from his chest but radiated through my thighs.

My fingers slipped down the outside line of his abs until I reached the waistband of his boxers, where I ran them along the inside of the band.

“Leah,” he said again, capturing my hand. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“If you’re asking if I’m awake, the answer is yes. I’m not sleep-molesting you.” I kissed his ear.

He pulled back to lock his lust-glazed eyes with mine. “That’s not what I’m asking.”

“Yes,” I answered, my voice shakier than I intended. I wanted him, wanted to feel his mouth on my skin, his lips on mine. But how far did I want it to go? Was I prepared to let him see all of me? “No. I don’t know.”

His forehead puckered. “I’m not the guy who takes a maybe as a yes.”

God, why did he want an answer? Why did I have to make a choice? “I don’t want to think.” I didn’t want to remember, or sleep again to fall into that nightmare. I just wanted to feel. My eyes pleaded with his to understand.

His softened. “Okay. Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” I answered honestly. How could I not? We were alone in a foreign country, almost seven thousand miles from home, and I was in his bed.

“Good.” With that word, he flipped me to my back, the movement so quick that I could only blink. His massive frame rose above me. “You’re the one in control. You say stop, I stop. Got it?” he asked, his voice steady and sure despite the slight tremor in his hand as he brushed my hair off my cheek.

I nodded.

“Good. Then as of this moment, the only thought I want in your head is how many different ways I can make you come.”