emotions all the time so he could do his job. Had done it for so long that the first time a feeling peeked through it surprised the hell out of him how much it actually hurt.
His body had responded to her even before she’d come on to him. He wanted to lay her out on the couch or the floor or, hell, even the table. He didn’t know if it was his own willpower or the knowledge that Caleb was close or the fact that he still held too many secrets that could easily be revealed in the heat of the moment, but he’d stopped.
Christ, it had nearly killed him. His erection pressed the soft denim of his jeans uncomfortably and he thought about going outside and rolling in the snow.
Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and watched her sleep, even as Caleb wandered in.
The man slept as little as Mace did this days, and they usually ended up on the couch watching movies until dawn.
Like a fucking old married couple. Jesus, he needed a life. And Cael needed
his
life.
“She’s dreaming,” Cael pointed out.
“She’s having a nightmare,” Mace said grimly, watching Paige shake in her sleep, her hands fistedsafely inside the old quilt. He went over to her, was about to shake her awake, when he stopped himself.
He wasn’t sure if it was the bow-shaped mouth or the dark fringe of lashes that threw small shadows on her cheeks, or the fact that those cheeks were flushed, but the response his body had was immediate—his blood heated and he forced himself not to stroke her face or her shoulder.
The feeling was nice. And he almost laughed.
It was the same reaction he’d had when he first saw her walking into the bar, before realizing who she was. What kind of trouble she could wreak here.
“Leave her, Mace. You’re not supposed to wake someone when they’re having a nightmare.”
“That’s for sleepwalking.”
“Still, leave her. She’s calming down.”
And she was. The shaking and whimpering had stopped.
“You heard us talking before,” Cael said, and yeah, his senses were definitely returning. “Why didn’t you tell me about her brother? Did I know that at some point?”
Did he? Gray didn’t talk about that part of Paige’s life much, as if it was too private to share. “Probably not.”
“She said it was on the news a few nights ago.”
Mace wondered if that’s really what propelled her here—if she’d received any threats.
He’d ask her in the morning.
CHAPTER
4
C ael woke in a cold sweat, his hand reaching out for something … or someone.
But who? The question haunted him. Fuck, everything did, no matter how hard he tried not to show it. Getting laid would no doubt take the edge off, but he somehow knew it wouldn’t satisfy the empty, gnawing feeling in his gut.
He shoved the covers off, padded naked to the window and stared out into the blinding white blanket that coated the back lot and the familiar, not back in-his-own-skin feeling began again.
Shit
.
Maybe Mace was right about Paige. Maybe her showing up here was the worst thing ever.
He tried to remember if he’d had any dreams last night, but as usual, since the memory loss, there wassimply a dark, gaping void where dreams should’ve been.
It was then he noticed that the heat was still out. He remembered Mace mentioning a generator that wasn’t working and he decided to pull on clothes and see if he knew anything about fixing generators. These days, he had a better than fifty-fifty shot.
As he yanked on a pair of jeans, he noted the legal pad that had fallen to the floor. Before bed last night, he’d been writing down memories of the days of the capture again, trying to put an order to them. But the page wasn’t filled with his lists. No, it was a picture—a woman’s face. The same woman he’d been drawing for the last month. Sometimes just her face … sometimes her body. Naked.
He grabbed the newest sketch of her and stared, remembered now drawing it feverishly last night before he’d fallen into a
His body had responded to her even before she’d come on to him. He wanted to lay her out on the couch or the floor or, hell, even the table. He didn’t know if it was his own willpower or the knowledge that Caleb was close or the fact that he still held too many secrets that could easily be revealed in the heat of the moment, but he’d stopped.
Christ, it had nearly killed him. His erection pressed the soft denim of his jeans uncomfortably and he thought about going outside and rolling in the snow.
Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets and watched her sleep, even as Caleb wandered in.
The man slept as little as Mace did this days, and they usually ended up on the couch watching movies until dawn.
Like a fucking old married couple. Jesus, he needed a life. And Cael needed
his
life.
“She’s dreaming,” Cael pointed out.
“She’s having a nightmare,” Mace said grimly, watching Paige shake in her sleep, her hands fistedsafely inside the old quilt. He went over to her, was about to shake her awake, when he stopped himself.
He wasn’t sure if it was the bow-shaped mouth or the dark fringe of lashes that threw small shadows on her cheeks, or the fact that those cheeks were flushed, but the response his body had was immediate—his blood heated and he forced himself not to stroke her face or her shoulder.
The feeling was nice. And he almost laughed.
It was the same reaction he’d had when he first saw her walking into the bar, before realizing who she was. What kind of trouble she could wreak here.
“Leave her, Mace. You’re not supposed to wake someone when they’re having a nightmare.”
“That’s for sleepwalking.”
“Still, leave her. She’s calming down.”
And she was. The shaking and whimpering had stopped.
“You heard us talking before,” Cael said, and yeah, his senses were definitely returning. “Why didn’t you tell me about her brother? Did I know that at some point?”
Did he? Gray didn’t talk about that part of Paige’s life much, as if it was too private to share. “Probably not.”
“She said it was on the news a few nights ago.”
Mace wondered if that’s really what propelled her here—if she’d received any threats.
He’d ask her in the morning.
CHAPTER
4
C ael woke in a cold sweat, his hand reaching out for something … or someone.
But who? The question haunted him. Fuck, everything did, no matter how hard he tried not to show it. Getting laid would no doubt take the edge off, but he somehow knew it wouldn’t satisfy the empty, gnawing feeling in his gut.
He shoved the covers off, padded naked to the window and stared out into the blinding white blanket that coated the back lot and the familiar, not back in-his-own-skin feeling began again.
Shit
.
Maybe Mace was right about Paige. Maybe her showing up here was the worst thing ever.
He tried to remember if he’d had any dreams last night, but as usual, since the memory loss, there wassimply a dark, gaping void where dreams should’ve been.
It was then he noticed that the heat was still out. He remembered Mace mentioning a generator that wasn’t working and he decided to pull on clothes and see if he knew anything about fixing generators. These days, he had a better than fifty-fifty shot.
As he yanked on a pair of jeans, he noted the legal pad that had fallen to the floor. Before bed last night, he’d been writing down memories of the days of the capture again, trying to put an order to them. But the page wasn’t filled with his lists. No, it was a picture—a woman’s face. The same woman he’d been drawing for the last month. Sometimes just her face … sometimes her body. Naked.
He grabbed the newest sketch of her and stared, remembered now drawing it feverishly last night before he’d fallen into a
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