Possession (Fallen Angels #5)(52)
Author: J.R. Ward

Rubbing his calf to get rid of the itchies, he finished his coffin nail and ground the thing out. Then he stood up and put some weight on his leg as a test. Held like a dream. Achy? Yes. But it worked—and with the help of its twin, took him out and to the bathroom, where he ditched the johnny, showered, shaved, and brushed his teeth.

His stomach was hungry. The rest of him was not. In fact, as he went back to his room with a towel around his hips, all his brain wanted him to do was get drunk. Really hammered, seeing-double drunk. Tragically, he didn’t think there was any alcohol in the house—at least not that had been made after Prohibition.

Throwing the towel into the dirty pile, he collapsed on his bed, sprawling out on his back like da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man—

The lamp across the way flickered as if the bulb was fritzing out—or maybe the electricity was failing.

Then everything went dark.

“Annnd something else breaks in this house.”

Crap, he really should go back out there and get Sissy. Bring her in from the proverbial rain. Apologize for biting her head off.

And he intended to do all that—just after he rested his heavy eyes for five minutes. Besides, she probably needed a little more time to cool off. What a temper—and bizarrely, that made her even more attractive.

Suggested there might be passion—

Like a cop facing off at an armed suspect, he ordered, “Stop it. Right there.”

Put down the inappropriate thoughts and step away with your hands on your head, not on your cock.

Huh. Wonder what Miranda rights would look like under that scenario … You have the right to remain erect, but anything you do to yourself will be used against you in a court of conscience—

Okay, he was losing it. And it was time to take everyone’s advice and pull it together. He was going to have a five-minute TO followed by clean clothes and a good solid attempt to try to talk to Sissy again.

Taking deep, easy breaths, he chilled himself out, willing his emotions back into the closet that they’d jumped free of—

Knock. Knock.

Jim lifted his head. “Yeah?”

As the door opened a crack, light sliced through all the pitch-black. “Can I come in?”

At the sound of Sissy’s voice, Jim grabbed the covers and yanked them over his crotch. “Now’s not a good time.”

“I just want to apologize.”

“Can I meet you in the kitchen?”

“I’m really sorry, Jim,” she said hoarsely.

“Shit. Me, too.”

With a graceful shift, she peered around the door, and God, in that illumination streaming in from behind her, her blond hair looked like a halo. Momentarily struck by her presence, he rubbed his eyes, thinking maybe this was a dream. Maybe he’d fallen asleep quick, and his subconscious had presented this chance to make up.

“I’m cold,” she said in a small voice.

“I’ll give you a sweatshirt.” He went to get up, and remembered the whole naked thing. “Actually … ah, it’s over there.”

As he gestured to the corner where the clean-clothes pile was, Sissy stepped inside and stayed where she was. “I wasn’t…”

She cleared her throat.

Oh, right. This actually wasn’t about any kind of body-heat issue. She didn’t know how to properly take back what had happened out there—and yeah, he knew what that felt like.

“You don’t have to say it,” he murmured.

“Really?”

“Nah.”

“Oh, good.” She shut the door. “I’m glad.”

Jim frowned as he heard her closing in on the bed … and then the mattress dipped under her slight weight. “What are you—”

“I’m cold. I’m so … cold, Jim. I just need … to be warm.”

Jim felt his eyes bulge, but there was no time to react beyond that: Before he knew what was happening, she had stretched out next to him and curled up into his chest.

“Just … put your arms around me for a little bit. I need it so badly.”

Her voice was tortured, sadness and exhaustion cracking it. But this was a serious no-go.

Holding his arms out to the sides as far as he could stretch them, he shook his head even though she couldn’t see him. “Sissy …” His voice was rough to his own ears. “You can’t … no, this isn’t right.”

“Why?” Her voice deepened, reminding him yet again that she was not who she had been. “I’m not asking for sex.”

Jim recoiled, shocked by the candor. But he believed her on that one. The issue was him. Plus, oh, heeeeeey, he was naked.

“Please,” she said. “I feel lost. So lost, like I’m going to float away. And there’s nothing holding me here … just let me stay the night. I promise I won’t bother you.”

Not likely on that one, he thought.

Except he wasn’t going to turn her away. He couldn’t.

Pushing himself to the far edge of the mattress, he mummied himself in the sheeting. “I’ll…”

What, he thought. Tell her he was going to keep his hands off of her? He didn’t want her to know he’d even gone there for a second.

“Come here,” he muttered.

Sissy came in close again, once more snuggling up against his chest, but this time she took it even further—she tucked her arms in between them, and put her head under his chin.

The rough sigh she let out was such a commentary on where she was that he wanted to kick his own ass for getting tangled in the head for even a second about any attraction bullcrap.

She was lost, and he was, for the time being, her imperfect anchor.

Made him wish he were a better man; it really did.

With some stiff herky-jerky, he adjusted himself to her position, but he didn’t touch her and kept his hips way back. There was still a lot of skin exposed on his part, but she didn’t seem to notice.

He was all too aware of it.

God, she was so small against him—not because she was short, but rather because he had, what, almost a hundred pounds on her?

She smelled so good. Not fake perfume-y, just lovely, beautiful, fragile woman. And the fit with her was perfect, as if their bodies had been made for each other.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Jim squeezed his eyes shut. Then he gently put an arm around her, holding her very loosely. As she shuddered and inched in still closer, he realized that she wasn’t the only one who needed warmth. He did, too.

Had for a long time, actually.