Breaking the Ice by Esme Taylor

CHAPTER SEVEN

Reid

The first thing I noticed when I woke was that I’d slept better than I’d done in the last seventeen years. The second thing I noticed was that I was covered in sweat, my throat was raw, my body ached and the lamp from my bedside table was missing. However, it was the third thing I noticed that really threw me.

I wasn’t alone.

Fuck. I thought as I took in the form of the beautiful woman lying beside me in bed.

Hettie’s tiny frame was wrapped around my body like a shield protecting me from the demons of the night. One of her hands cupped my face, fingers buried in my hair. The other hand was tightly wrapped across my chest, our legs entwined like an elaborate spider’s web.

For a moment, I wondered if she was real. This can’t be happening. She can’t possibly be here, in my bed, I thought as I tentatively reached out and lightly brushed my fingers over her calf, careful not to wake her.

Being so petite, I knew it couldn’t have been the most comfortable way to fall asleep. Regardless, she had given it her all, using as much of her body as she could to envelope my gigantic frame. Her soft skin was pressed against me, her heart beating steadily in her chest. One thing was for sure, being this close to her breasts was doing nothing to ease my morning erection that I was trying desperately to ignore. Still, despite how amazing she felt, the panic began to set in.

I need to move. I need to work out how in the hell I’m going to deal with this entirely fucked up situation. But I also want to lie here with her and enjoy this moment. I knew that if I moved, and she woke up, I would never get another opportunity like this again, and I intended to enjoy every second while I could.

I had never woken up next to someone else. And I’d certainly never had anyone hold me like this. To be honest, I don’t think I’d ever felt as safe as I did at that very moment. Which was almost comical given that I’m apparently the giant Viking, and she was the damsel in distress.

I closed my eyes and once again wished I could turn back time.

Seventeen years of nightmares I couldn’t remember.

Seventeen years of therapy.

Seventeen years of trying to forget or remember, depending on which way you look at it.

Seventeen years of trying to build a new life for myself and every night ending up in the same place.

Which is precisely why I couldn’t have relationships. It’s the reason I’m so closed off and didn’t have people in my home. Especially at night. Nights are the times I fall apart. And as much as I wish it weren’t true, I had no control over what happened when I was asleep. It’s just easier and safer to not allow anyone close enough to witness it.

I knew I needed to work out what I was going to say to her and how I was going to explain whatever it was that happened last night. I just wasn’t entirely sure how I was going to explain something I didn’t even understand myself. I’m sure she’ll have questions and want to know why. She’ll expect me to tell her everything, and I can’t. How can I tell anyone when I don’t have the answers myself? Reluctantly, I slipped out from beneath her and did what I do best.

I ran.