Page 195 of Claimed At First Sight

The storm.

Chicago.

Maximo’s penthouse.

My heart is already racing by the time another gust rattles the building. I lift my head just enough to glance toward the wall of windows.

The storm hasn’t eased up. Snow lashes against the glass, occasionally illuminated by the city lights far below.

I become aware of strong arms wrapped around me. And just like that, the panic begins to fade.

The last thing I remember is resting my cheek on Maximo’s chest and letting his steady heartbeat lull me to sleep.

At some point during the night, I must have rolled onto my side with my back pressed to his chest. One of his arms is tucked beneath my head and the other draped around my waist. It tightens ever so slightly, though I can’t tell whether it’s because I moved or simply instinct. I don’t think he’s awake. His steady breath brushes softly against my hair.

I sink back into the warmth of Maximo’s embrace. Despite the mayhem outside, I’ve never felt safer.

More debris hits the glass and I don’t even flinch. I curl my fingers around his forearm where it rests across my waist and hug it closer to my chest.

The wind can howl all it likes. For tonight, wrapped securely in Maximo’s arms, it can’t reach me.

Chapter Fifty-Four

Maximo

Iwake slowly. My shoulder is aching and my arm is numb. I try to move it, but it won’t obey.

My eyes fly open.

Adrenaline slams through me. The damp smell and the cold hit at once, and my heart starts pounding so hard it hurts.

I’m back in the darkness, stone walls surrounding me while rope cuts into my wrists and every futile struggle sends pain shooting through my shoulders.

I suck in a breath.

Vanilla.

The scent reaches me through the panic.

I blink hard. Dark hair lies scattered across my arm, not coarse rope.

Mia.

The room comes back in pieces.

I force air into my lungs. Tension locks my shoulders, and my fingers have curled tightly across Mia’s abdomen.

She doesn’t stir. Her breathing remains even, her fingers loosely wrapped around my forearm. She hasn’t let go of me all night. Neither, apparently, have I.

I ease my grip and wait for my pulse to settle. It takes longer than I’d like.

The fire crackles in the hearth. Outside, snow still swirls as the sky begins to lighten, but the wind no longer hammers the glass with the same force. The storm is finally easing. About time.

Mia continues sleeping soundly against me. Now and then, a loose strand of hair stirs with her breath. I follow its movement until the memory of my dream finally loosens its hold.

For reasons I don’t care to examine, the sight of her steadies me. She looks peaceful. Trusting. With one deep exhale, the remaining tension leaves my body.

Carefully, I try to slide my arm free without waking her. As soon as I shift, she makes a sound of protest and huddles closer, tightening her fingers around my forearm.