I sat on the floor quietly, watching her face as she slept. She looked peaceful this time, with a small smile on her face. I reached out and gently moved the lock of hair on her cheek. Then she opened her eyes slowly. It felt like getting a quick sharp stab. Right in the damn heart. That first moment she opened her eyes. And that moment of recognition in her eyes. And that moment when she smiled. As if she was happy she woke up and found me there. I was at a loss for words. There was a tightness in my chest, and the more I watched her face, the tighter it got. "Hi," she said. I would have spoken if I knew my voice would work. "Aren't you going back to sleep?" she asked drowsily. But I was feeling... off. I couldn't put my finger on it. "I'm not—" I cleared my throat. "I'm not tired." My voice sounded clipped. Why the f uck do I do this? She blinked at my face. I had to get away from her line of sight. She noticed something wasn't right and she was starting to wake up. I rose from the floor and walked to the fireplace, adding more kindling to it. It might get colder tonight, and I wanted to keep her warm. Was she warm enough now? Did she need a thicker blanket? I frowned at the flames. What the hell is this? What the hell am I feeling? I was an expert at blocking things out—thoughts and feelings. These things were dangerous if I let them take reign. But ever since I met her, I couldn't find the switch to turn them the hell off. I tensed when I heard the rustle of sheets on the bed as she pulled herself up. "Hey, Bigfoot." Damn. Damn. Damn. I lowered my head. Fought it. Failed. I gave up and smiled. "Don't run away," she said. I looked at her over my shoulder. And my heart thudded against my chest. Her hair looked dark in the firelight. It tumbled on her shoulders, as if she'd just woken from a wild night of sex. Her eyes, feline eyes I couldn't get out of my head no matter what I did, watched me now, waiting, wondering. "Are you sorry you told me?" she whispered. Told her about the maze? Never. "No." "Then what is it?" she asked. "Because you're doing it again." I had no explanation for her. I couldn't even understand what I was feeling so how could I even begin? I crossed to her. My eyes on hers the whole time, but she surprised me when she scrambled up, kneeling on the bed facing me. I stopped in front of her. We stared at each other. "I don't mean to do it again," I said. The fire popped and sizzled behind me. "Is it hard to talk about it?" "Yeah." We were whispering in the dark. I could see the light from the flames playing on her alluring face. Slowly I reached out and stroked her cheek, slid my hands down and held both sides of her neck as I rubbed her nape with my thumbs. She closed her eyes, her body leaning toward me for more. "But we both know you can get anything out of me if you want to, don't we?" I said. It wasn't a question. Now she smiled. A knowing smile. She tipped her face up to me, silently demanding a kiss, and I kissed her softly this time, taking my time, nibbling on her bottom lip. When I pulled away, the frown had left her face. My hands travelled down to her shoulders, her arms, then banded on her hips and I lifted her up. I loved how she automatically hooked her arms and legs around me, how trusting she was that I wouldn't let her fall. "Did I give you blue balls?" I smirked. "Yeah. Big time, but you made up for it when you screamed my name." "I did not!" she blustered. "I think you screamed my name." I nuzzled her neck. "We'll do more when you're ready." Don't think about that. "Can't sleep?" It took her a moment to reply. "No." Her voice was raspy, and I wondered if she was thinking of the more. I wanted her to. "Where are you taking me?" "Kitchen. You have to eat." "No, I don't," she said, just as her stomach growled. I chuckled. "Yeah, you do. You weigh like nothing." I knew she had a slim frame, but I wondered if she was too thin because she worked too hard and forgot to eat. She also drank a lot of coffee. I assumed it was to keep up with her work and other responsibilities. I didn't want her to get sick. "Are you saying I'm too thin?" she teased. "Is that why you can't get enough of my body?" This woman was fire. "I can't get enough of you." "And he says he's not good with words." It was the truth. I didn't have to look for words when it was so plain to see. When it was that simple. Amused at both of us, I propped her on the kitchen island.