“Isaac?” she softly called.
“Yes, honey, I’m here.”
She took a hesitant step forward, her nervousness evident in her stance and demeanor.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” he reassured her. “Is something wrong?”
She bit into her bottom lip and glanced downward, and he knew if the light were better he’d be able to see the blush that was surely adorning her cheeks.
“Hey, come here,” he said.
She walked forward, stopping at the foot of the bed. She continued to avoid his gaze, finding anything else to focus on.
“Jenna, look at me,” he commanded gently.
Finally she lifted her gaze, and he was gutted by the unease reflected in her eyes.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”
“I wanted to ask . . . I mean if you didn’t mind . . . I wanted . . . well, it’s stupid, but I couldn’t sleep because I’m afraid,” she whispered. “Would you mind if I stayed in here with you?”
His heart damn near stopped. It was the very last thing he’d expected her to ask, but there was no way in hell he was telling her no. The idea that she’d been lying in the room next to his unable to sleep because she was afraid damn near broke his heart.
“Of course I don’t mind. Get the door, okay? And then come here.”
She turned and retraced the few steps to close the door and then walked to the side of the bed and to his utter bewilderment, she settled down on the floor, curling her knees into her chest, obviously planning to sleep there.
“Jenna, no,” he said, more harshly than he intended.
His tone startled her and then she looked crushed, tears of mortification welling in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I shouldn’t have come. It wasn’t my place. Don’t be angry, please. I couldn’t bear it if you were angry with me.”
He was momentarily speechless as she hurried to get up, but then he was out of the bed and in front of her before he even realized he was there. He placed gentle hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look at him.
“Honey, I’m not angry with you. I’m pissed that you thought you had to sleep on the floor. You will never sleep on the goddamn floor again, is that clear?”
The shocked look on her face only intensified when he simply lifted her slight figure into his arms and then leaned over the bed, depositing her on the opposite side so her head was nestled on the pillows. Then he crawled up on his side, pulling the covers over both of them.
“Come here,” he said again, his voice soft and full of apology.
She awkwardly moved toward him a few inches, so he reached for her and hauled her against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her so her cheek was pressed right over his heart and his chin rested atop her head.
She was stiff as a board and he could barely feel her breathe as she processed the situation. He could feel the panic coursing through her veins and her rapid pulse and increased respirations.
“Relax, Jenna,” he ordered. “Nothing can hurt you here. Now what were you afraid of? Did you see something? Hear something?”
Gradually she began to relax, though it seemed an eternity before she finally capitulated and her soft curves melded to his much harder frame.
“It’s stupid,” she muttered, obviously embarrassed now that she was over her initial fright.
“There aren’t rules when it comes to fear, honey. Everyone fears something and it can strike at any time with no warning, and even the simplest, unassuming thing can trigger it. What was it that scared you?”
“The window,” she blurted. “Since my room is in the middle, the only window is at the back of the house and faces . . . nothing. It’s just dark, and the window is so big and it’s so close to my bed, and all I could think was how easy it would be for someone to take me out of that window before anyone even realized I was gone. I used to long for windows. I hated the room where I was kept because there was never any sunshine. Nothing to see but four walls. But now I hate them, because now I know what’s out there just waiting and how easy having a window makes it for people to get in.”
“That’s not stupid, sweetheart,” Isaac soothed. “It’s smart, and it means you’re aware of your surroundings and the possible dangers associated. But I promise you that nothing will hurt you in this room when you’re with me. And there is no way I’ll let anyone take you from me. Can you trust me that much, Jenna?”
She snuggled even closer to his chest, their legs sliding and bumping together until finally he trapped hers between his and held her close, lending her his warmth and comfort.
“I do trust you,” she whispered. “I know it seems like I don’t because I haven’t told you anything, or at least much. It’s just that I’m so ashamed.”
Tears were thick in her voice and he threaded one hand through her hair and then pressed his lips to the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her honeyed tresses.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of, Jenna. I wish I could make you see that, believe that. God, I can’t think of a person more worthy and undeserving of shame than you. Do you even realize how good you are? How brightly you shine? It’s all there for the world to see. Your gentleness, your compassion, your goodness. And your beauty,” he whispered. “Never have I seen a more beautiful woman than you.”
Her small fingertips dug into his chest and he felt her slight tremble, the effect his words had on her. Then she lifted her head so that she could look him in the eye.
It was obvious she was nervous, and she had the most adorably shy look as her gaze traveled over his entire face.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked in a hushed whisper he had to strain to hear.
His fingers, still tangled in her hair, gently pulled through the strands as he caressed their length and then the tips, wrapping them around his knuckles.
“You can always ask me anything,” he vowed.
“Can I . . . Can I kiss you?”
Heat traveled to the center of his being. His blood blazed a trail of fire through his veins until he was certain his entire core was molten lava. He stared at her with hungry, hooded eyes, nearly groaning with the dilemma before him. The moment her request had registered, he’d gone rock hard, and the last thing he wanted was to scare the hell out of her with a monster erection.
When she started to say something, likely to recant or apologize, he pressed one finger to her lips.
“I have to ask you one question first,” he said huskily.
She looked at him in confusion but nodded her agreement.
Praying the entire time, he drew in a breath and said, “How old are you, sweetheart?”
Her brow furrowed and he cursed himself, because once more shame made her features sad and distant.
“I don’t know,” she murmured.
“I don’t understand,” he said with genuine confusion.
“I only have a few memories of my life before . . . them.”