Callan’s room.
I relax against the soft mattress as my hot body practically vibrates, my dream coming back to me in heated flashes. I close my eyes again, wanting to go back to my fantasy world as the images play out in my mind’s eye. I honestly can’t believe I was dreaming of my old friend, his mouth on my body, kissing a path to the needy juncture between my legs. A low groan crawls out of my throat, and a movement beside me has me going still.
What is going on?
I stiffen at first, thinking I’m imagining things. Maybe I hadn’t run into Callan today—literally. Maybe that was just wishful thinking and I’m actually back in my own bed, and it’s Brad shifting beside me. A violent quake goes through me, and a burst of panic grips my stomach as air wheezes from my lungs.
“Gemma?”
The sound of Callan’s voice instantly puts me at ease. I inhale a relieved breath and place my hands over my chest to still my racing heart. Wait, what is he doing in bed with me?
“Gemma, are you okay?” The nightstand lamp flicks on, bathing the room in soft light. Callan’s blue eyes narrow in on me. He blinks, then frowns as he glances around his dark room. “How did I get here?”
I laugh softly. “I don’t know. Maybe you were sleepwalking and habit brought you to this bed.”
His lips curl in a soft smile as he pushes the blankets off his shoulders. “I took a couple allergy pills. That’s probably exactly what happened. I’m sorry. I’ll get out of here.” He shifts and the blankets hover around his stomach, giving me a view of his near naked body.
Sweet baby Jesus.
“Wait,” he says. “Something woke me up. Were you trembling, or talking in your sleep?”
“Just a dream,” I say. “I’m okay now.”
“Maybe more like a nightmare,” he states, but he’d be wrong. The dream was erotic, the nightmare happened when I was wide awake, thinking Brad was next to me. He makes a move to get up, and I’m instantly disappointed. He’s a big guy, but he radiates comfort and safety.
“Callan,” I say softly, and tentatively reach for him. I pull my hand back, and he glances at it, aware I was reaching for him.
“Yeah.”
“Do you think…um…you could stay for a little bit?”
He goes perfectly still for a moment and I berate myself. What a stupid thing to ask. I shouldn’t be asking the man for his comfort. I shouldn’t be asking him for anything. He’s dealing with enough in life as it is.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—” I begin, but stop when he puts his hand on my arm.
“I can stay,” he says and drops back down, turning to his side. He goes up on one elbow and rests his head in his palm. “Were you having a nightmare?”
“Actually, the nightmare was when I was awake. I felt a movement beside me and for a brief second I thought it was Brad.” I shift beneath the sheet and that’s when I realize I’m dressed only in my bra and underwear. Callan’s clothes were so big on me, I was worried I’d strangle myself in my sleep. I sink deeper into the bedding and tug the sheets to my neck, leaving my arms outside the bedding, braced at my sides.
“That frightened you, didn’t it?” he says, like he’s completely aware of the life I lived with Brad.
“A little,” I say. I’m not sure what’s making me open up. Perhaps it’s the late hour, or maybe the fortress around my heart is still asleep. Or perhaps it’s simply because this is Callan, a damaged man, but a guy I can trust. He’s so kind and sweet, so easy to open up to. “Things weren’t great between us.”
“I figured as much. I’m sorry.” He reaches out, lightly runs a finger along my arm, and a small quiver goes through me. His brow bunches with worry. “Did he hurt you, Gemma?”
A little moan I have no control over catches in my throat and Callan’s gaze flashes to mine. “Not really.”
“What does not really mean?” he asks, a dark edge to his voice.
“He never hit me or anything. He was aggressive and threatened me, and sometimes…”
“Sometimes what?” he asks, moving even closer, until I feel his warm breath on my face.
“Sometimes, I don’t know, I guess in bed, he could get a little rough.”
“You don’t like it rough,” he says, a statement, not a question. I get it, some women like it rough, I’m just not one of them, and I’m not sure Brad’s brand of rough is what any woman would like anyway. It was almost…possessive, like it held a deeper warning.
“It actually scared me. He was pretty intimidating and domineering, at times.”
“He was a fucking bully.”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve voiced this?” he asks, but he’s not victim-blaming here, like some do. Some would say it’s my fault. I didn’t fight enough, or stand up to him. It’s easy for them to say it. It’s different when you’re in the situation.
“I did.”
“I’m sorry, Gemma. Your ex was a real douche-bag.”
“Yeah, he was,” I say a bit breathless as his naked leg touches mine.
“I’m glad you found the courage and left him. I know that’s not easy.”
“You do?” I say, but yeah, of course he does.
“I’m a first responder. I come across many different situations in my line of work.”
My heart beats a little fast, and honestly, I feel a bit lighter sharing my painful past with Callan. “Thanks for understanding,” I say. “I don’t think most really understand.”
His finger trails higher, a gentle sweep to my shoulder. He draws tiny circles, and his tender touch travels through my body, settling deep between my legs. My God, what is going on here?
“I’d love to have five minutes with him. Let him pick on someone his own size.”
“I don’t want you involved, Callan. It’s over. I’ll face him this weekend, and make sure he knows it. We won’t
