Page 59 of Last Man Standing

Go to sleep, despite wearing another man’s hoodie and nothing else, since he told you to shower, but didn’t bring your suitcase back.

And there’s no way in hell you’re walking through that door to search for it.

Go to sleep, Scarlett. Because the real-world friggin’ sucks. But then again, the dream world is rarely better.

Please just go to sleep.

I lie impossibly still in the middle of a massive king-sized bed, curled into Sebastion’s much-too-large hoodie, and still, I shiver under the heavy blankets. Not because it’s cold, but because I’m not sure being here is any safer than standing in front of my apartment door and waiting for whoever the hell is trying to terrify me.

Go to sleep, Scar.

My bedroom door creaks open, almost completely silent in the night, but the snick may as well be a cannon’s blast as far as my nervous system is concerned. Fear slices through my veins like bubbling lava, burning everything it touches, and scorching the oxygen straight out of my lungs.

A small sliver of light cuts into the room, and I… remain frozen. Can’t move. Won’t move. If I stay still, my intruder might believe I’m not really here.

A hulking shadow passes through the crack in the door, inching into the room on light feet, then the door closes again.

Boom!

Tears burn the backs of my eyes. Scalding. Itching. Infuriating. I hold my breath, if only to stop it from becoming a bouncing sob that alerts my intruder to my presence. But that shadow is comfortable moving in the dark, unhesitating as he crosses the room and comes to a stop at the foot of my bed.

Get up and fight, Scarlett! Why won’t you fight for once in your damn life?

“It’s just me, Princess.” Sebastion’s voice rumbles in the dark, but instead of calming me like he seems to think it should, his easy words inject spires of anxiety into my blood. Bending and untying his laces, he toes his boots off and lets them fall to the floor with a muted thud. “I can feel your panic.” He peels his shirt over his head. “I need you to take a breath.”

“What the hell are you doing?” I shoot up tall and bundle my blankets tight against my chest, then I scrunch my eyes shut as he callously flips a lamp on and bathes the room in harsh, bright light. “Sebastion! Get out!”

“Out?” A low, infuriating chuckle rolls from the depths of his naked chest. Naked and inked and so fucking muscular, I’m not entirely convinced they didn’t have him pose for the protein tubs. “This is my bedroom.” He unbuckles his belt and yanks the leather free of his pants. Dropping it to the floor so it lands with a clatter right beside his boots, he taps my foot. “Move over. I’m beat.”

“Are you insane?” I shove my blankets off and fly to my feet in nothing more than his oversized hoodie. “Get out!”

“Not getting out.” He unfastens the button on his pants and tugs the zipper down to reveal silky black boxer shorts.

Slowly, his eyes come up to mine and his lips quirk infuriatingly to the side. “My hoodie looks good on you, though. Where I come from, wearing another man’s clothes is kinda like saying you’re ready to fuck. Or that we recently fucked.” A yawn overtakes his entire frame, contorting his face and squeezing his eyes shut. He brings his arms up, stretching until his biceps bulge and his pants fall another inch lower on his hips. “But seeing as how we didn’t fuck yet, does that mean you’re telling me you’re ready to go now?”

“Absolutely not!” I snatch up my pillow, and from beneath it, the phone he and I now co-own. “Go sleep somewhere else!”

“Not sleeping somewhere else.” He slides his pants off and reveals thick thighs smattered in dark hair, then crawling onto the bed, he shamelessly flops into the spot I just left. “Mmm. It’s toasty warm and smells like you.” He grabs one of the three remaining pillows and beats it into submission, then he hugs it beneath his chest and snuggles in for sleep on his belly. “It’s late, Princess. I haven’t slept since…” His eyes close and a contented sigh slips from between smacking lips. “I don’t even know. Day before yesterday, I think.” He taps the mattress. “Climb back in. Time for sleep.”

“You’re out of your damn mind!”

“Won’t fuck you tonight,” he mumbles sleepily. “Not sure I have it in me. But if you’re really set on it, I can turn to my back. You ride, I sleep, we both win.”

“Sebastion!” My heart hammers painfully in my chest. “What are you…” My breath comes out on a sob. “I can’t!”

“I’m not leaving this room. I’m not sleeping anywhere else.” He hums deep in his throat, already most of the way asleep. “I was awake all day and night driving your ass halfway across the country. So get in. No riding.” He taps the mattress again. “Won’t even touch.”

“I-I don’t know where else to go.” I shakily swipe fresh tears from my cheeks. “Please, Sebastion, I⁠—”

“Don’t go anywhere else. Not safe.” His breathing evens out. His smug grin falls into flat lines.

Anxiety pounds in my blood as I blink, blink, blink sizzling tears from my eyes and set my knee on the bed. “Are you faking?” I lean closer and search the side of his slack face. “Sebastion? Are you messing with me because I said mean things?”

His breath comes out on a soft whistle, and his back lifts and falls with consistent, deep breaths.

I don’t think he’s faking.

Groaning, I glance around the brightly lit room, across to the door, then over to the sitting area near the television. I study the bed once more, and when I’m convinced he’s actually asleep and not just being an asshole, I choke out a whimpering exhale and hug my pillow to my chest.