Three Broken Promises (One Week Girlfriend #3)(6)
Author: Monica Murphy

And like the silly, obedient girl that I am, I follow him.

We drove home in silence, the air between us thick with tension. I spent the entire time texting with Fable, telling her I manned up and gave my notice to Colin. I thought she would be happy for me. At the very least, proud that I finally found some courage and did it.

Instead, I received a string of whiny texts in reply, begging me not to leave. I mean, what the hell? Even my new best friend is trying to hold me down. This town is too small and everyone knows each other. After my last close call, I don’t want to take that chance again. I’d rather go and forget this place ever existed.

I’ll miss my friends. I’ll miss Colin. But it’s best that I go.

I don’t even quite know how I ended up here. I grew up about two hours away, in a small, seemingly idyllic but really super boring town in the mountains. Where everyone knows each other and the air is crisp and clear, filled with the scent of pine. Where gossip prevails and the secrets that aren’t so secret anymore go generations deep. Colin grew up there too; his mom lived right next door.

His father has never been a part of his life. I’ve met Conrad Wilder a few times but always briefly, and I don’t know much about the man. Only that he’s very generous with his money—and he has a ton of it, a fortune he’d inherited from his father when he died—handing it over to Colin every chance he gets, in lieu of the two of them actually spending time together.

Not that Colin ever complained. He keeps most of his emotions to himself.

The moment we arrived at his house, I closed myself off in my room. Didn’t bother saying good night, let’s talk more, screw you, I hate you—nothing. Just ran away from him, heading down the hall like a coward. I turned the lock on my bedroom door, shed my clothes, and curled up under the covers. Squeezing my eyes shut tight in the hope that sleep would take me swiftly.

It didn’t. Hours later I still lie in bed, frustrated, hot even though the ceiling fan turns lazily above me. I’ve kicked off the covers, clad in only a pair of panties and an old tank top, feeling like I might burst out of my skin, I’m so restless.

And then I hear it. Him. Colin’s room is next to mine and the walls are remarkably thin. Thank God he’s never brought a woman here—at least he hasn’t when I’ve been around. Hearing him do . . . whatever he might do to another woman would send me straight over the edge.

I’m already teetering there, hanging on by a tenuous thread thanks to Colin.

It always starts out quietly. A whimper, or sometimes a growl, though it’s never fierce. Rolling over on my side, I face the wall we share, waiting breathlessly for the next sound.

His voice is guttural and deep, though I can’t quite make out what he’s saying. I usually can’t. When he starts talking, that’s my signal to climb out of bed and go check on him.

So I do.

Chilly air smacks my face when I open his unlocked bedroom door. He’s left the windows open and the night has cooled considerably, a sign that fall is on its way. Tiptoeing into his room, I stop at the foot of the bed, watching helplessly as he tosses and turns, overcome with whatever demons come to him in his dreams on an almost nightly basis.

It’s dark, but I can make out his form in the light of the moon shining through the open windows. He’s shirtless, of course. The sheets bunch around his hips and his broad shoulders and chest gleam in the moonlight. I’ve never seen him like this in the light of day—naked and mouthwateringly perfect—but I want to.

His voice rises, I can understand what he’s saying now, and the words break my heart.

“Gotta save him. Gotta find him.” He pants, as if he’s running, searching for the one he’s lost, and without thought I slip into bed with him, snuggling up behind him so I can wrap my arms around his waist.

I know who he’s looking for in his dreams. I used to dream about him too. Right after we lost my brother for good. This is our shared loss, the strong connection that has kept us together, that made him search me out when I ran.

Colin found me. Colin saved me. It’s the least I can do, to try and save him back.

Holding him close, I rest my chin on top of his shoulder, my mouth close to his ear. “It’s okay,” I whisper as I run my hands over his flat, firm stomach, feeling extra daring tonight. I’m tired of holding back, holding everything in. I want to feel him, know him in every intimate way possible. “Everything’s okay. You did what you could.”

His nightmares haunt him. They’re dark and desperate. Though he never talks about them, it doesn’t take a genius to realize just how awful they are. How they torment him almost every single night. I don’t know how he lives like this. He acts like everything is fine in the daylight. Happy and carefree, as if nothing ever bothers him. But in the dark, in his sleep, his other world reveals itself.

And it’s not pretty.

“Jennifer.” He whispers my name, turning his head so his mouth is in near perfect alignment with mine. He settles his hands over my wandering ones, intertwining our fingers, and I sigh at his touch.

It’s as though he’s not even aware of what he’s doing. He touches me as if he wants to own me. As if we’re really together. But we never take it any farther than this. No kisses, nothing sexual. Though the tension and heat that radiates off his big body isn’t only from his bad dreams.

It’s because of me. He wants me. His body always, always responds to my touch. I wish that for once, he could admit it.

“I’m sorry.” He sounds so distraught, so forlorn. I hate that. Tilting his head closer, his lips brush mine when he speaks. “Don’t leave me.”

And then he kisses me.

Chapter 3

Jen

His lips are warm and soft, the kiss simple. My emotions are anything but, colliding within me and dying to get out. Chaotic and out of control, as I realize this is the very first time our lips have actually touched. We’ve kissed each other’s cheeks and foreheads, but never lips.

I’ve wanted this for far too long, but I think . . . no, I know he’s half asleep. He probably doesn’t even realize what he’s doing . . . does he? He called me Jennifer and he never, ever calls me that. I’m simply Jen.

Good ol’ I-can-always-count-on-her Jen.

Colin releases his hold on one of my hands and reaches for me, cupping my face, his thumb caressing my cheek as he turns more fully toward me. His chest brushes against mine, my ni**les harden almost painfully, and I slide my hands up his chest, over his pecs, winding them around his neck so I can bury my fingers into his silky, soft hair.