“Can I get you something?” Edgar asked.
Erin nodded. “Water would be great. Thank you.”
“Be right back.”
Cole refocused on her. “Dizziness better?” he asked.
“Yes.” She ran her tongue over her dry lips, noting he hadn’t made a move to shift her out of his lap. And given that once she moved, she’d lose his warmth and security, she wasn’t in any rush.
“The open parking lot scares me,” she said softly.
“Jesus,” Cole muttered at the admission, his arms tightening around her. He’d taken one look at her pale face, recognized the signs of panic, and grabbed her before her knees buckled. “Nobody’s going to hurt you again.” They’d have to go through him first.
The trust in her eyes humbled him, and he hoped he could live up to it. The same thing working in his favor also weighed against him. Cole was protecting a woman in whom he had an emotional investment—a definite problem. But instead of making him weak, he swore to himself his emotions would make him stronger, more vigilant and aware, instead of less.
Knowing she needed him, whether she wanted to or not, gave him a type of fortitude he hadn’t known was in his genetic makeup. She’s mine, he thought, tightening his arms around her. Mine to protect, he amended, knowing the distinction was of the utmost importance in both keeping her safe and giving him the distance he needed to do his job and not hurt her when he left on his next case.
“I know my fear isn’t rational; it’s psychological.” She glanced down, her long eyelashes dark against her pale skin.
“It’s like PTSD,” he explained, attempting to keep a detachment from the subject he didn’t feel. He’d gone through a rough case of post-traumatic stress disorder after his first undercover op ended. And though his superiors and the department shrink had assured him that most felt it at one time or another, Cole had fought like hell to overcome the debilitating reaction.
“What do you mean?” Erin asked.
“Rationally you know everything is okay, but your mind takes you back in time and you have no control over your body or its reactions.” Just the explanation had him gritting his teeth, knowing how close to the surface his own memories actually were. His fingers curled into tight fists, until Erin’s soft groan of pain alerted him to the fact that he was pinching the skin beneath her blouse.
He ran his thumbs over her arm by way of apology.
“How do you know so much about it?” she asked.
“Water, just like you wanted,” Edgar said, shoving a bottle at her.
“Thanks,” she said.
Cole opened the bottle and she drank, leaving him well aware that he’d been granted a reprieve from her question. Much of his work was confidential; more of it was shit he didn’t like or need to talk about. He had the required shrink sessions for that and he’d learned to put it behind him when he walked away. But Erin was persistent, and he wondered how long it would be before she pushed him for answers he wasn’t ready to give, or how long he could hold out against the pull she had over him.
She wasn’t deliberately tempting him, that much he knew. If anything, she was keeping her distance, or had been until he drew her into his lap, wrapped her in his arms, and shielded her from her own fears. It was part of her appeal, the way she held on to her dignity and pride. But living with her, taking care of her—hell, just being around her twenty-four seven—Erin was becoming harder and harder to resist.
Six
The rest of the week passed with no repeat of Erin’s panic attack, though she couldn’t stop thinking about that out-of-control feeling—and the sense she had that Cole knew more about what she’d experienced than he’d let on. She’d asked, he hadn’t offered up information, and she’d let it go. Just as she’d let it go when he’d wondered aloud what his mother would have done had there been a pro bono clinic back when she’d left his father.
She still hoped for answers one day, but he was so self-contained, she doubted they’d be forthcoming.
Neither Cole nor her brothers wanted her out in public, in places like Joe’s Bar, where she was an easy target, and Erin wasn’t used to being confined. Having Cole for company definitely helped her when she was feeling cooped up or antsy.
As she readied for bed, washing up, brushing her teeth, and moisturizing well, she glanced in the mirror at her bare stomach. Not quite flat anymore, there was a slight roundness now that clothes still hid, and her breasts were more sensitive and slightly fuller. She swallowed hard, knowing no matter how not-ready she felt, she’d better get there and fast. Her parents were coming home Wednesday, and she’d have to tell them about her pregnancy, the shooting, and her new roommate-slash-bodyguard.
She climbed into bed and listened to the sounds of Cole in the next room. Familiar noises she was more than growing used to hearing. The creak of the floor as he walked, the sound of him opening, then closing, the bathroom door in the hall. If he worked out, doing sit-ups, push-ups, and chin-ups from a bar he hung in the bedroom doorway, he’d shower before bed.
Erin didn’t know what was harder for her, knowing he was a few feet away, naked in her shower, or catching a glimpse of his bare chest and flexing muscles as he pulled himself up and lowered himself down from the bar, working out the definition she’d once felt beneath her hands. Hot skin she’d once run her lips over, then followed with her tongue.
Yes, bad-girl Erin was latent and begging to come out, especially now that the morning sickness had begun to subside, just as the doctor promised, around fourteen weeks into her pregnancy. To make matters worse, her sexual desire returned full force, although she could also attribute that to Cole’s invasion into her life. At first, she’d been in too much pain from being shot to think much about sex. Then she’d been too shaken up to focus on anything beyond one day at a time. But slowly, life had returned to normal . . . except for Cole living in her home.
And her mind consistently rewound to the
day she’d panicked at work—and his immediate reaction. Not only had he been aware of her emotions but his reaction had gone over and above what a bodyguard would—or should—do. There were other ways he could have taken care of her dizziness and panic, starting with sitting her on a chair and placing her head between her knees. Instead he’d pulled her onto his lap, cradling her in his warm body and protecting her with every breath he took.
His gentleness did more to affect her than his potent arousal, and she’d felt the swell of his erection pressing against her core. Nothing had been the same for her since, not with her hormones so crazy, her emotions all over the place, and desire raging like a furnace inside her. So it was no surprise that she tossed and turned in her bed, unable to fall asleep—and when she did, panicked dreams took hold.