Self-consciousness, not to mention awareness of him, scattered her thoughts. Even as she longed to put her hand on his chest, feel his heartbeat, she reminded herself why he was here. Not because he wanted to make love with her. He’d made that clear.
The nightmare.
And…it might be easier to talk if he couldn’t see her face. She knew exactly why she needed to hide.
“Tonight—” Erin swallowed “—their eyes were open. They were staring at me.”
“God.” His arms tightened around her. “Was there more?”
“I’m not sure,” she said uncertainly. “There was something else, but I can’t remember.” Rising goose bumps told her she didn’t want to remember.
“Tell me they didn’t talk.”
Another, more intense shudder gripped her.
“I shouldn’t have said that.” One of his hands moved up and down her back, over her thin T-shirt. “Have you tried sleeping pills?”
“At first.” She was talking to his throat. “They made the nightmares more vivid.”
Cole swore. “Are you having them every night?”
She shook her head.
“You never said when it happened.”
“October.”
“Seven months, then. You know the nightmares will get farther and farther apart.”
“So everyone says.”
He kept quiet after that, just held her. Usually by now she’d be out of bed, probably dressed, and downstairs making coffee. All that adrenaline made lounging in bed after a nightmare a physical impossibility. But…in the shelter of his arms, her tension gradually eased. Her fists unclenched. She pulled away enough to straighten her legs, so her knees were no longer poking him in the belly.
The really hard belly, rippling with muscles.
This shiver had nothing to do with the nightmare, but Cole tightened his arms in a way meant to comfort.
And it did. Despite her physical reaction to him, despite the shadow of the horror that had awakened her, this felt like being enclosed in a cocoon. His embrace, the heat of his body, the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the whisper of his breath on her hair combined to make her feel safe.
But…tears must still be leaking. Her eyes stung.
He rubbed his chin on top of her head. “Let yourself cry,” he said, voice low and husky. “I’ll bet you haven’t done that very much, have you?”
No. She’d been too afraid of breaking beyond any possibility of putting herself back together. But maybe, with him holding her, she could grieve without fear.
At the mere thought, a sob ripped from her throat.
* * *
THE WOMAN IN his arms cried and pounded his chest with a fist while her whole body quaked. Her body seemed determined to tear itself apart. All Cole could do was hold on.
At one point, he realized he was trying to rock her, and he knew he’d been murmuring something soothing—probably trite bullshit.
He doubted Erin heard a word, anyway. She sobbed, at first irregularly, then with clockwork precision. He found himself timing his own breaths to sync with hers. Not that she’d notice, tumbled as she was by a tidal wave of emotion. And, damn it, he was afraid his own face was wet.
Cole hadn’t cried since his father had grimly paid his bail and brought him home. Alone in his room that night, he’d let go. By morning, he’d convinced himself that the arrest was such an obvious mistake he didn’t have anything to worry about.
After he was convicted and led from the courtroom in shackles, he’d gone numb. To survive, he’d had to become cold, all the way through.
He’d be embarrassed by his tears now if he thought Erin would notice them. Because he knew she wouldn’t, he didn’t try to shut himself down. Maybe this was something he needed to do.
Her grief had triggered his. He hoped he cried mostly for her, but it had to be a little for himself, too. For things he couldn’t go back and change, and for a future that would forever be affected by his screwed-up past.
Her sobs gradually lessened and she relaxed slowly until she went limp, looking as wrung out as he felt. He shouldn’t stay, but he didn’t want to move too soon and wake her up. He could close his eyes… Yeah, he’d wait until she was sound asleep…