Page 28 of Forged

But tonight, holding Neomi while she falls asleep, it feels like my body has already decided she matters more than my caution ever will. The fear isn’t that she’s traitorous or calculating. The fear is that she isn’t—and that still won’t stop the fallout if I get too attached.

She shifts, nestling closer, pressing more firmly into my chest. As her breathing calms, anger simmers inside me, knowing someone followed her. In my mind, I make a note to assign a detail to her. No one will get that close to her again. I look down, my fingers sweeping through her soft hair and I feel the need to keep her safe—and to make her mine. I adjust the blanket around her shoulders and stare into the dark.

After a few quiet minutes, her voice drifts back. “Lars?”

“Yes?”

She turns her head just enough to look at me. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

She hesitates, then asks, “What do you do? Like for work.”

“Security.”

The answer leaves me quickly. It’s what I tell everyone, and it’s not far from the truth, but with her, I know it’s a complete lie.

She studies me in the low light, then nods once, as if filing that answer away. I take a breath.

“Neomi,” I whisper.

“Yes?”

“I want to take you out.”

She stiffens slightly. “I don’t date.”

A corner of my mouth lifts. “Neither do I.”

She shifts. “But you want to take me on a date?”

“I’m only asking for dinner,” I say. “We could just call it spending an evening together.”

She laughs. “And where would you take me?”

I don’t hesitate. “I know where we can get a good steak.”

“Okay,” she says after a moment. “One dinner.”

I pull her back against me. “Tomorrow, then.” I kiss her hair. “Get some sleep, Bella.”

She relaxes fully this time, her breathing evening out as sleep claims her. I struggle to quiet my thoughts because I know I’ve already crossed a line I shouldn’t have.

I wake with the sun,drifting slowly up through warmth and the press of someone breathing behind me. For a moment, I’m disoriented, so I track my surroundings. There are hotel sheets beneath my cheek, a broad chest at my back, and a heavy arm curved around my waist.

It’s been three years since I’ve shared a bed with a man for sleep and not sex.

My eyes open fully and the room is dim, dawn pushing a muted amber glow through the curtains. Lars is still asleep, his hand spread across my stomach. His body is pressed along the length of mine and God—he feels good. Too good. Anchoring in a way I don’t want to let myself get used to.

I lie there and hints of last night echo through my mind. My brain plays tricks on me, telling me that I probably just overreacted. That it was silly for me to call Lars. Then my stomach tightens at the fear I felt. A slow burn creeps into my chest because even though I didn’t ask, he came to me.

Fuck. I’ve been just fine for years now with no one. But there’s something about Lars that I can’t get enough of.Something in him that makes me feel safe. When he leaves, I want more of him.

What is he doing to me?

I shift, trying to create space, and the arm around my waist tightens. He isn’t awake, but his body responds like it’s trained to register my movement. His palm slides lower across my hip, warm and heavy and proprietary in a way that would irritate me if it didn’t feel so damn good.

I try to sit up. His grip firms.