Redeemed (Dirty Air 4)

“What are you doing?” I whisper.

“Shh.”

I snuggle into his chest, breathing in the fresh scent of fabric softener.

“I weigh a lot.” And what about the extra pressure on his leg? I couldn’t bear the idea of causing him more pain.

He scoffs. “I could bench-press you on my worst day.”

“Stop being so damn cocky. It’s unattractive.” I squeeze his bicep for good measure before yawning.

“Go back to sleep.” The door to my room creaks open.

“I was sleeping until I was rudely interrupted.”

“You talk way too much for someone who was sleeping as of three minutes ago.”

Another yawn stops my reply. Santiago throws the comforter to the side and places me down in my bed. He tucks me back in, dragging the cover up to my chin.

He turns toward the door, but I call out his name.

“Will you stay?”

The moonlight seeping into my room highlights the bulging muscles of his back. “Why?”

“Because I want you here.”

“Chloe, listen—”

“Don’t give me the brush-off in my own bedroom. That’s awful.”

He grunts. “Don’t force me to.”

“I’m not asking for sex. I swear. I just want you here.” Because I miss you when you’re gone.

“No sex?”

“None. I’ll be a saint. I promise.” I offer him the sign of the cross, purposefully doing it wrong.

He corrects me like usual, a small smile gracing his lips. His hand brushes a loose strand of my hair away from my eyes. “You’re hard to say no to.”

“Then don’t bother trying.” I snuggle into my sheets.

It’s obvious that I won this round and he knows it. His iWalk thumps against the floor as he rounds the side of the bed. I smile at the rustling of my sheets on his end.

He goes through the motions of his routine, and I keep my eyes shut. The temperature in the room heats up as he settles beside me.

I take a peek in his direction. His body remains rigid as he stares up at the ceiling, his arms crossed over his chest. That will absolutely not do.

I roll over, throwing my leg over his without thinking. Every muscle in his body locks up as my thigh grazes his stump.

Shit, Chloe! “Oh, God. I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking and—”

His arms remain plastered against his chest, unmoving as if he was carved of stone. “It’s fine.”

“But I just touched you and—” I attempt to move back to my side of the bed.

Santiago’s hand stops me. He throws his palm across my thigh, securing me to his body. “Chloe. I mean it. It’s fine.”