That’d been why I’d allowed myself to move into his arms—I needed a pillow and I didn’t want him to give one of his up. So I’d used his bicep as one. Though, when I’d moved into his arms, I’d been slightly buzzed and high on life.
Now?
Well, now I was wondering how I was going to get out of his arms without waking him.
But also finding myself kind of unwilling to move.
It was a weird situation to be in.
Before my capture and captivity, I’d loved cuddling.
I loved curling up on a couch and leaning against Beau’s shoulder or stretching out on the couch and pillowing my head on his hard thigh.
Beau had been a whole lot shorter than me, however. Meaning cuddling with him hadn’t been as easy as my current cuddle partner.
After my captivity, however, I wanted nothing to do with the opposite sex. No hugs. No cuddles. No touches. No closeness.
I think that had honestly hurt Beau the most that first moment we’d seen each other after I’d been rescued—my inability to hug him. I’d broken up with him immediately after hearing the story about how he offered my friend up in exchange for me.
Later on, I’d tried to give Kansas—Beau’s old best friend—a hug. Only, that’d ended in such an intense anxiety attack that I’d had to be hospitalized.
I’d learned after that just to completely avoid any and all touching with the members of the male persuasion until I could get myself under control.
Something that didn’t come all that easily at first.
Luckily, I’d had some really great friends that had some really great husbands, that would let me try out a hug on them any time I needed to.
Eventually, I got to the point where I could hug Beckham’s husband, Trouper and Kansas if I was mentally prepared. I could hug most of my brothers if they waited until I came to them.
But, saying that, I hadn’t been able to do that with any other man that I knew, at least, until a certain man with a police badge came into my life.
I fully expected myself to be freaking the fuck out at this point. However, the more I lay there in the quiet peace of Will’s arms, the more I realized that that always present feeling of impending doom, the one where I would have to run for my life at any second, wasn’t there.
I shifted in Will’s arms, my eyes falling closed all over again on their own volition.
The next time I woke, it was with the urgent need to pee.
I got up, used the facilities, brushed my teeth with my finger—because there was just no way I would ever share anything with a man again, even a sexy one—and came back out into the bedroom.
I found Will on his belly in the bed, his arm around my pillow that I’d recently used.
My gaze tracked down the large breadth of his back, taking in the multitude of muscles, tattoos—he had a rather large gray and black shield on his back that looked like it was the type that knights used back in the medieval days—to his backside that was covered in a pair of plain black boxer briefs.
He had little dimples above his shapely ass, and I couldn’t help my fingers twitching from wanting to trace those indents.
“I’ll give you thirty bucks if you start the coffee,” Will groaned.
I snickered. “I guess I could do that. But I don’t want thirty dollars for it.”
He opened one eye barely a crack and stared at me. “What do you want?”
My lips quirked. “I’ll let you know after I start it.”
I followed the path to his kitchen—it wasn’t hard to find seeing as his cabin was all of two bedrooms, a living room, and a bathroom—and walked straight to the coffee pot.
There I found a Mr. Coffee that I didn’t realize anyone used anymore since K-Cups became a thing.
Hell, when I reached for the coffee can—Folger’s—it was to find one of the metal spoons that used to come in the old metal coffee cans.
Searching through the cabinets that were closest to the coffee pot, I finally gave up and screamed, “Where are your coffee filters?”
I hadn’t had to make coffee like this in years.
Damn, I was spoiled.
And probably ruining the planet with the K-Cup obsession.
“Bottom drawer underneath the sink.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Could you have made it any farther from the coffee pot?” I called out, my lips tipping up in a smirk.
“Sure,” he called back, sounding a little more muffled. “But I thought the bathroom might’ve been a little gross seeing as I shit in there.”
I rolled my eyes, not offended in the least by his bathroom humor.
I was a nurse.
Nurses dealt with shit on a daily basis.
Hell, if a shift passed that I didn’t have to clean someone’s shit up, I called it a good day.