fingers would tap little Addie’s head as she smiled down at her.
The floor creaked directly behind her and Addie startled, hair fanning out as she swung around.
Erik stood there; he’d snuck up quiet as, well, as a cat . He was mere inches away and stared down at her. Gold ringed his amber eyes that studied her intently.
He still wore no shirt, his cut muscled torso seeming to radiate heat. For a moment she could imagine running her hands over his smooth skin and her heart fluttered. A deep blush moved down her neck from her face, fanning out to her breasts, the purely physical reaction to his presence both out of place and startling.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Addie swallowed dryly, parted her lips to speak though she couldn’t come up with something to say.
“I’m sorry for prying,” he said, his voice a low rumble like the purr of a big cat.
Addie leaned against the counter at her back, feeling trapped in a way that was not at all unpleasant. She took in a breath and held it, shivers rushing across her skin. “It’s okay. I...I pried first.”
“But I’m imposing on you. You have every right to ask.”
He seemed to move closer—whether he’d actually stepped any nearer, she couldn’t say. But her head tilted back, holding his eyes. Every fiber of her being wanted to reach out; she coiled her hands into fists at her side to stop herself. This wasn’t like her at all but all logic was leaving swiftly.
“You’ll tell me,” she said. “When you’re ready?”
Erik stared down at her and she no longer saw the bruises or cuts over his skin, just the beautiful man beneath them. His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed, waiting before answering. “Yes.”
Oddly, she believed him.
His mouth opened to say something else and then he swayed; whatever energy he’d had, he used just getting to the kitchen.
Immediately she darted forward, lifting his arm and tucking herself beneath it. “Sit back down in the living room. I’ll make lunch.”
He accepted her help and said nothing else on the matter, though she hoped they’d return to the conversation soon.
And hopefully when I’m a little less flustered .
Chapter Eight
Addie sensed another storm rolling in as the weekend continued on.
She’d never felt quite so hypersensitive to it; as the thick clouds filled the sky, they seemed to press down and added a weight to the air in her house. Lighting was coming, an electrical current running through the air. By Sunday she was restless with the feel of it. She paced all afternoon, was sure to feed the feral cats in the yard and secure the shed, then busied herself around the house. By the time evening fell, the storm was hitting hard. When the power went out, she retired to her room to sleep
Of course, sleeping wasn’t easy with a tiger in the other room, even if he currently looked like a man.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Rain beat against the window and shadows rippled on the wall across from it. Lightning periodically lit the sky and thunder shook the house. Though she avoided staring at the bedside clock, she sensed midnight’s approach.
Erik was getting stronger, bit by bit—she regularly made him tea out of a vaguely remembered recipe of her grandmother’s, and that seemed to ease the fever. Bandages were changed twice a day and that wound was healing up. He moved around her house more on his own, helping with the dishes, keeping his space beside the fireplace tidy.
He never relaxed, though. Not even when he slept, which seemed fitful and never deep. There seemed to always be a tension around him, like he was bracing for something.
Probably something violent, if she had to guess.
Then there was the matter of him not leaving the floor.
Her offers of the spare room or even the couch were always deflected, sometimes with a casual decline, other times with a misdirect. Maybe the hardwood, being less comfortable, made it easier for him to be alert, but more
The floor creaked directly behind her and Addie startled, hair fanning out as she swung around.
Erik stood there; he’d snuck up quiet as, well, as a cat . He was mere inches away and stared down at her. Gold ringed his amber eyes that studied her intently.
He still wore no shirt, his cut muscled torso seeming to radiate heat. For a moment she could imagine running her hands over his smooth skin and her heart fluttered. A deep blush moved down her neck from her face, fanning out to her breasts, the purely physical reaction to his presence both out of place and startling.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Addie swallowed dryly, parted her lips to speak though she couldn’t come up with something to say.
“I’m sorry for prying,” he said, his voice a low rumble like the purr of a big cat.
Addie leaned against the counter at her back, feeling trapped in a way that was not at all unpleasant. She took in a breath and held it, shivers rushing across her skin. “It’s okay. I...I pried first.”
“But I’m imposing on you. You have every right to ask.”
He seemed to move closer—whether he’d actually stepped any nearer, she couldn’t say. But her head tilted back, holding his eyes. Every fiber of her being wanted to reach out; she coiled her hands into fists at her side to stop herself. This wasn’t like her at all but all logic was leaving swiftly.
“You’ll tell me,” she said. “When you’re ready?”
Erik stared down at her and she no longer saw the bruises or cuts over his skin, just the beautiful man beneath them. His Adam’s apple moved as he swallowed, waiting before answering. “Yes.”
Oddly, she believed him.
His mouth opened to say something else and then he swayed; whatever energy he’d had, he used just getting to the kitchen.
Immediately she darted forward, lifting his arm and tucking herself beneath it. “Sit back down in the living room. I’ll make lunch.”
He accepted her help and said nothing else on the matter, though she hoped they’d return to the conversation soon.
And hopefully when I’m a little less flustered .
Chapter Eight
Addie sensed another storm rolling in as the weekend continued on.
She’d never felt quite so hypersensitive to it; as the thick clouds filled the sky, they seemed to press down and added a weight to the air in her house. Lighting was coming, an electrical current running through the air. By Sunday she was restless with the feel of it. She paced all afternoon, was sure to feed the feral cats in the yard and secure the shed, then busied herself around the house. By the time evening fell, the storm was hitting hard. When the power went out, she retired to her room to sleep
Of course, sleeping wasn’t easy with a tiger in the other room, even if he currently looked like a man.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Rain beat against the window and shadows rippled on the wall across from it. Lightning periodically lit the sky and thunder shook the house. Though she avoided staring at the bedside clock, she sensed midnight’s approach.
Erik was getting stronger, bit by bit—she regularly made him tea out of a vaguely remembered recipe of her grandmother’s, and that seemed to ease the fever. Bandages were changed twice a day and that wound was healing up. He moved around her house more on his own, helping with the dishes, keeping his space beside the fireplace tidy.
He never relaxed, though. Not even when he slept, which seemed fitful and never deep. There seemed to always be a tension around him, like he was bracing for something.
Probably something violent, if she had to guess.
Then there was the matter of him not leaving the floor.
Her offers of the spare room or even the couch were always deflected, sometimes with a casual decline, other times with a misdirect. Maybe the hardwood, being less comfortable, made it easier for him to be alert, but more
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