Chapter 22
Bently
Bently carefully laid his head on the pillow as Belle pulled his soft, cool sheets over him. Belle walked around the room in one of his T-shirts, blowing out the few candles. The woman was so tiny it reached mid-thigh.
Is she wearing any panties?
She’d probably gotten hers wet in the shower. Seeing her in his clothes brought a new wave of possessiveness over him. He wanted her. Needed her. But was he willing to risk the pain that would eventually come with having a relationship? Could he make an exception for Belle?
Next, she pulled his curtains closed, eliminating the remaining light in the room. The squeak of his chair made his body stiffen. “What are you doing?”
“I’m getting comfortable in this chair,” she said deadpan.
“Don’t you need to get home to TJ?”
“He’s fine. I already texted him that I’d be gone until tomorrow.” She yawned sleepily. She’d worked all night. She had to be exhausted.
“I’m just going to sleep. I’ll be fine. You should go.”
She sighed, as if tired of having this argument. “Bently, we talked about this. You could vomit in your sleep and aspirate. Or a whole host of other complications could happen. You can’t be alone—not for forty-eight hours.”
“I appreciate your concern, but—”
“Look. I need sleep. So, if you could just shut up, I’d be very grateful.”
Damn this woman was something. “You’re going to sleep on that chair?” No fucking way.
“I have to be in the room. I won’t hear you if you need help otherwise.”
“I’ll take the chair.” He pulled off the covers and sat. He hissed as the pain of his ribs protested the movement.
“No. You need to lie down,” she snapped.
“No way am I taking the bed and letting a woman sleep in that old-ass chair,” he argued. “The bed is big enough for the both of us.”
She sighed again. “Fine. If it will get you to shut up, I’ll sleep in the bed.”
He smiled, thankful for the darkness. “I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself,” he repeated her earlier words.
“You better,” she grumbled. The bed shifted under her weight as she lay next to him. Overtired Belle was cute.
She turned on her side, facing away from him. Her breathing slowed and evened out within minutes. For the first time all day, he could relax. Just having her near brought him a sense of calm. He drifted into sleep.
***
Flashes invaded his mind. His mother’s lifeless body hanging from the rafters of the basement. His father coming at him with a fury of fists and boots. Jasmine’s tear-stained face when she’d run to get him, warning him his father was attacking Mikel. The sight of his little brother, crumpled on the floor, his face so swollen he was unrecognizable.
You didn’t save them. You should have been there. You weren’t enough.
The voices taunted him as memory after brutal memory slammed through his mind. Each flashback felt as real as the moment it had happened.
“Bently.”
Why was Belle here? No. He couldn’t get to her too.
“Bently. Honey, it’s just a nightmare,” Belle soothed.
He cracked his eyes open. His heart raced against his chest as he gasped for breath. Her soft hands rubbed over his rapid pulse, grounding him with her touch. Sparse rays of light bled into the room between the curtains, illuminating her worried expression.
“It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re free. You’re calm.” She repeated the words over and over until his breathing evened out.
Belle started to pull her hand away, but he grasped it. “Don’t stop.”
She leaned against his shoulder and resumed the calming swirl of her hand back and forth across his chest.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.
“No.”
“Okay.”
Birds chirping outside the window were the only sounds in the otherwise silent room. Belle’s hand rested against his pec. Her movement stilled as she fell back into her slumber.
He took the opportunity to study her closer—her long lashes brushing the tops of her cheeks ever so slightly. He got the urge to kiss her button nose, but refrained. A sleeping woman could not consent, no matter what Disney had to say about it. He brushed a dark curl from her face. Her lips parted slightly. She was breathtakingly gorgeous. A true queen in his bed. Strength and beauty emanated from every pore, all wrapped up in such a small body. No woman ever stood up to him the way she did, nor challenged him. No one had ever dropped everything to take care of him either.
I shouldn’t need to be taken care of.
Anger roiled in his gut. She’d seen him overpowered and wounded, helpless and having nightmares like a child. Yet still, here she was, snuggled against him, trusting him. A woman like that . . . A spark of hope lit inside him. Belle was what he’d never been looking for, but always needed. He’d be damned if he let her slip through his fingers without trying everything in his power to keep her by his side—she was worth it.
***
Hours later, Belle stirred against his chest. He kept his eyes closed so she’d think he was sleeping. Her stare swept across his face, tingling his skin. He’d expected her to shy away from his arms once she realized how close they were. But instead, she lay there for a few minutes. Eventually, she shifted gently out of the bed.
The smell of bacon wafted upstairs a little later.
He sat, carefully, and rubbed his eyes. He needed coffee, stat. Bently glanced at the clock. Three in the afternoon. They’d slept the day away. He shifted his feet off the bed. His headache had dulled, but it still persisted. His body ached even more than the day before. Bently slowly got to his feet. His head swam, but there was no way he was calling her up here for help. Reaching out, he steadied himself on the wall as he made it to the bathroom to relieve himself and brush his teeth. He shuffled back to the bedroom to grab a
