The Darkest Sunrise (The Darkest Sunrise #1)

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Sunlight poured in through the curtains when I was suddenly dragged out of sleep by a knock at my front door.

I was on my side, knees bent, hand tucked under my pillow, one leg over the covers, the other under, but even after I’d pried my eyes open, I was still very much in a dream world.

A hard, naked body was pressed against my back, one arm stretched out beneath my neck, the other wrapped around my ribs, his hand holding my breast, his heat enveloping me.

Porter had surprised me the night before by announcing that he’d not only taken the night off (to spend with me), but that he’d also asked his mom and dad to stay with his kids so we could have a whole twenty-four hours to ourselves. My heart had nearly leapt from my chest, and my body had definitely leapt into his arms. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been that excited about something.

We’d worn clothes for all of thirty minutes total that night. And that hadn’t included drinking beers and eating Chinese food on my couch. (Begrudgingly, Porter had agreed to put pants on before opening the door for the delivery guy.)

I smiled and rolled against him, praying that whoever was at the door would disappear.

“What time is it?” he murmured without opening his eyes.

I lifted my head off his arm to look at the clock on the nightstand. “Eight fifteen.”

“Mmmm,” he purred sleepily. “Too early.”

I pecked the tip of his nose. “See, this is what happens when you insist on the four-a.m. quickie.”

His lids were still closed as he said, “Don’t you dare try to blame me. You initiated that.”

I grinned. I totally had. But I’d woken up much in the same way as I had moments earlier, only this time, it wasn’t just Porter’s hard body that was pressed up against me.

I kissed him again, this time on the lips—morning breath be damned.

He smiled and finally lifted his lids. “Morning.”

“Morning,” I breathed, running my hand over the top of his messy, blond hair.

“How’d you sleep?” he asked.

A pang of sadness hit my stomach.

Better than I will tonight when you go home.

“Good.”

“Good. Then let’s do it again,” he said, nuzzling his head into the pillow before closing his eyes.

I chuckled and propped my head up with an elbow to the bed.

Porter was gorgeous, even at eight in the morning, with a thick layer of scruff covering his jaw and sleep—and sex—mussed hair. But it was the man inside that had captivated me so completely. The world was still spinning, but for the first time, I didn’t feel the overwhelming need to keep up. Time moved slower when we were together.

Over the last few weeks, another of my fingers had slipped off the cliff, but my grip was still firm. Progress was progress though, no matter how small it was. I’d stopped going to the park and my old house. The urge was still there, but it almost felt liberating not to give in to it.

I’d known Porter for all of a month and I was leaps and bounds closer to reclaiming my life than I had been in ten years. And the most amazing part of all was that I was doing it by myself—with him at my side.

Porter lived by the rules. He never asked me questions, though I still told him answers. And, when I gave them to him, he didn’t judge my truths. He had this incredible knack for recognizing the exact moment I’d escape into my head to distract myself from the pain of whatever had triggered me. And he’d patiently wait there for me to return. He never once gave me a reason to fake a smile. He’d just hold my hand and let me be. If I wanted to open up, I did. If I didn’t, that was okay too. But I was never alone in the darkness. Not while he was there—even if that was only on the other end of a phone call.

But, right then, after having spent the night laughing, making love until the wee hours of the morning, and falling asleep wrapped in his arms, I felt something I had never experienced stir inside me.

And I didn’t mean that I hadn’t experienced it in the ten years since my world had fallen dark.

This particular something inside me was the likes I’d never felt in my entire life.

And it was the most beautiful something of all.

My nose stung as I pressed my lips together, fighting against the inevitable.

“Stop staring at me,” he grumbled without opening his eyes.

I smiled, and it forced a single tear to slide down my cheek. I brushed it away and said, “It’s just that you’re really ugly in the mornings.”

He chuckled and pulled me down so my head rested on his pillow. “That’s not what you said at four a.m.”

Closing my eyes, I tried to forget the reason I’d woken up in the first place, but there was another loud knock at the door.

Porter’s eyes shot open. “You expecting company?”

“You’re here. Rita is most likely shacked up with your brother. And my mom has a strict Saturday-morning-mimosa routine in which she doesn’t leave the house until noon. So, no.”

He twisted his lips. “You think it’s one of the neighbors needing a bolster in morale?”

Exaggerating a groan, I rolled out of his arms and stood up. “Probably. Let me get my bra and panties on and see what I can do.”

He laughed and sat up, his heated gaze following me as I ambled to my dresser, pulled out a T-shirt and sleep pants, and shrugged them on.

He grazed his teeth over his bottom lip. “Get rid of the clothes before you come back in here. My x-ray vision isn’t what it used to be.”

I smiled. “You used to have x-ray vision?”

He winked. “How else do you think I see you in the dark?”

“Wouldn’t that be night vision?”

He stared off into the distance. “Well, what do you know? My superhuman abilities are multiplying.”

My lips twitched as I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Captain America. While I get the door, why don’t you try to unlock the powers that will enable you to put some pants on and start the coffee maker?”

“Captain America doesn’t really have any powers besides his strength and a shield.”

“Okay, then how about you use the shield to cover your ass while you get up and use your extra-strong finger to press the button on the coffee maker.”

He barked a laugh at the same time I heard her voice.

“Charlotte?” she called from my living room. “Honey? It’s Mom. I used my key, but just a heads-up, Tom’s with me. So maybe put on some clothes before coming out.”

“Shit,” I breathed.

Porter’s eyes got wide, and he scrambled from the bed, whispering, “What happened to mimosas?”

I shrugged and turned to the door. “No clue. But I’d highly suggest pants rather than the shield now.”

Smiling, I listened to Porter’s laughter fade behind the closed door as I headed down the hall. When I reached the living room, I found Tom and my mom standing in the entryway.

My lips fell as I took in my mom’s ashen face, and Tom’s arm anchored around her shoulders, his face equally pale.

Oh God.