“No! Please don’t. Please don’t!”
Nikolai’s heart stopped beating. The words came from inside the room and we’re followed by a distinct sob.
15
Nikolai acted without thinking, busting into the room without hesitation. He must not have solved the problem with his one man hit on the local Russian mob outfit. One of them had somehow gotten past his security forces and was now hurting her—
He stopped short when he found her thrashing around in the guest room’s canopy bed, the covers completely thrown off, her oversized college t-shirt up around her waist.
He looked around to be sure, but no, there was no one with her. Just Samantha McKinley, twisting around as if she were both trying to get away and prevent something from happening.
“Please, don’t do it. Don’t do it! I’ll do anything you want me to, just don’t hurt him—”
She was having a nightmare, he belatedly realized. He went over to her and turned on the light beside her bed.
“Samantha.”
“No, don’t. Please. Oh my God. Don’t!”
“Samantha,” he said again, trying to shake her awake.
“I will kill you. I swear I’ll kill you!” she growled. But the menacing affect of the words were diluted by the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Samantha!” This time he pulled her into a sitting position and shook her harder, trying to break through her nightmare panic.
Samantha came blinking awake with a startled sound, half scream, half cry, and for many moments her wild eyes bounced around, before finally focusing on him. A shocked beat, and then to Nikolai’s astonishment, her head fell into his chest as she broke down sobbing, this time with tears of relief.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. I thought it was real.”
“What did you think was real?” he asked from his awkward position, one knee dug into the bed and one foot still on the ground, his hands wrapped around her shoulders. “What did you dream?”
She shook her head frantically against his chest, as if trying to rid her mind of whatever had spooked her so badly. “Nothing,” she answered, still crying. “It was nothing.”
Nothing had her visibly trembling all over. “Tell me about your dream. Was it about man who came to your house?”
He wondered then, for much more altruistic reasons, if he shouldn’t tell her about what he’d done that night. If it meant she’d stop crying so piteously into his chest, he found himself prepared to confess anything.
“No, not him,” she answered, her voice watery. “It doesn’t matter. It’s a long story, and I don’t want to talk about it. I’m fine…” Another one of those stifled sobs, as if she were desperately trying to keep herself from breaking down even further. “I’m fine,” she insisted.
“You are crying… and shaking all over,” he informed her, because clearly she did not know the difference between fine and not fine.
“I know. I’m being silly, because everything’s fine now. We’re safe. I think it’s a delayed reaction to what happened tonight.” She pulled away from him, and brought her hands up to swipe at her tears. “You can go. I’ll be fine in just a few seconds.”
She barely got this out before dissolving into more tears.
Nikolai observed her for a hard second. “I am calling doctor.”
“No!” she nearly yelled. “No doctors. I just need…” she trailed off.
“What do you need?” he demanded. “Tell me.”
He purposefully kept his voice harsh. If she tried to deny him the truth one more time…
“A-a hug,” she answered. Her teeth were chattering just like the night they’d met. This time he doubted it had anything to do with the cold. “But you don’t seem like the hugging type, so I just n-need something to hold onto.” She looked around the bed. “Muh-maybe a pillow—”
He climbed all the way onto the bed and dragged her into his arms, tucking her head into his chest. She was right, he wasn’t the hugging type, but he didn’t think twice about holding her. If this was what she needed, he was going to give it to her. There wasn’t even an inner debate as he settled back against the gold headboard with her wrapped tightly in his arms.
She continued to cry for a long while, dampening the front of his robe. But at least she stopped trembling. Eventually her sobs began to quiet, no longer wracking her entire body. And when she spoke next, her teeth had stopped chattering.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry you had to do that. I know it was probably hard for you, especially given your, uh, intimacy issues. But I want you to know I appreciate it. So really, thank you so much.”
Her words of gratitude grated through him. What kind of unfeeling person did she think he was? Yes, technically she was right about his feelings about intimacy. He put women into three categories: those he would have sex with, those he did not wish to have sex with, and those who he could not have sex with, and the women he chose to spend time with usually didn’t cry or show much emotion at all. They were like him, efficient and capable lovers who respected his disdain for drama and left without tears as soon as the act was done.
He’d never held a woman this long, much less comforted her through a crying fit. Nonetheless, he didn’t like the way Samantha categorized his preference for keeping his sex life drama free as—what had she called it? Intimacy issues. The two words set Nikolai’s teeth on edge. She obviously thought he was defective—defective like his father had been defective, and so emotionally deficient, he’d let a woman cry as Samantha had in his presence.
“You can go now,” Samantha said, her voice awkward, as she started to pull back. “As you can see, I’ve calmed. But seriously, thanks again—”
He kissed her. He couldn’t say exactly why. To keep her from thanking him again, or maybe—he did not want to think too hard about this—maybe because he didn’t want her to remove herself from his embrace.
Whatever the reason, his hand came up to her cheek, pulled her closer, and the next thing he knew, he was kissing her. Not a soft kiss either. Not the kind of comforting peck men sometimes gave women to distract them from their hysterics.
No, he couldn’t make that excuse, because when his lips landed on hers, they crashed down hard, demanding… desperate. Don’t cry. Don’t tell me to leave.
She didn’t cry. She didn’t tell him to leave.