It was Donovan.
I went out into the hallway and knocked on his door, but he didn’t respond. I pushed the door open. I couldn’t see him at first because the room was so dark. But as my eyes adjusted, the lump on the bed became mused hair against the white pillowcase, a muscular back and heavy thighs uncovered by the sheets that had been kicked to the foot of the bed. He was dressed in just a pair of boxer briefs, the kind of underwear that hugged a guy’s thighs and ass like a pair of spandex workout shorts. And Donovan filled his out quite well.
He cried out again, mumbling something I couldn’t quite make out, tugging his pillow harder under his head.
“Donovan?” I called from the doorway. But it had no effect on him. “Donny,” I said softly, crossing the room and laying my hand lightly on his shoulder.
He responded immediately this time, grabbing my wrist and yanking me over his body and onto the thick queen-sized mattress. I cried out as he climbed over me, pinning me with his hands on both shoulders.
“Let me go!”
He stared at me in the dark for a second, then reached over and flipped on the bedside lamp.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” he demanded, as he came back to pin me down, his eyes narrowed as he studied my face.
“You were screaming in your sleep.”
“I was…” He hesitated, clearly aware that this was something he did. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Will you let me go now?”
The confusion and sleep left his eyes as he studied my face. And then his eyes moved further down, taking in the fact that I was still only dressed in a thin t-shirt. Memory made my cheeks burn, my mind going right back to that dream—to that relieved memory—I’d just woken from. How I’d wanted his touch back then, how I wanted to feel his hands on my skin. My body still remembered that need and the fact that we were lying in his unmade bed, both of us nearly naked, made that need come back tenfold.
I crossed my ankles, pulling my thighs tightly together.
“Let me go, Donovan.”
“Why are you always blushing when I look at you? I don’t remember you blushing this much back then.”
“Must be the head injury.”
“You think so?”
“What else could it be?”
“Oh,” he said, releasing one of my shoulders to move his fingers slowly along the curve of my jaw, “I could think of a few things.”
“Think about them on your own time,” I said, pushing his hand away and pulling myself away from his hold. I climbed off the bed and headed to the door. “Remind me not to wake you up ever again.”
“Might not be a bad idea.”
I glanced back at him. “What is it, anyway? PTSD?”
“Don’t worry about it, Kate. I have it under control.”
“Do you?”
His eyes moved slowly over me. “Go back to bed.”
“Time to get ready for work now,” I said, gesturing at the small travel clock he had on the bedside table. Then I focused on him. “Must be hell for your girl, sleeping with you during nightmares like that.”
“You sure worry an awful lot about someone you’ve never met.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. And I wasn’t sure I could speak with the knife that just sliced through my heart.
So he really does have a girlfriend.
Chapter 8
Donovan
I made us breakfast, but she only picked at the eggs, throwing them down the drain the moment I turned my back. And she was silent on the short drive to her bank, refusing to speak even when I commented on the weather or asked a direct question about her normal route to work.
Everyone in the bank when we walked in stared at us. I wasn’t sure if they were staring at her because of what had happened Monday night, or if they were staring at me because their manager had told them who I was and why I was there. Probably a combination of both.
Kate dropped her bag into the bottom drawer of her desk and settled in her chair, adjusting the nameplate that sat beside a photo of her and her dad.
“What are you going to do all day? Stand there and watch me work?”
“She speaks.”
She started to make a face at me but caught sight of her manager, Mildred Talbot, walking toward us.
“Mrs. Talbot,” she said, climbing to her feet.
“Please, sit, Miss Thompson. I understand you sustained a concussion during whatever happened the other night.”
“I did. But it was mild. I’m fine.”
“I certainly hope so.” Mrs. Talbot turned to me. “You must be Mr. Pritchard. Mr. Grayson called yesterday to explain what was going to happen for the next few days.”
I inclined my head. “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion. I’ll try to stay out of the way as much as possible.”
“It’s no problem. We’re happy to have the added security for Miss Thompson.”