Page 56 of Shattered Sun
For a moment, I forget why he is here. Forget my world is off its axis. Forget about everything except him. Until he breaks the silence.
“Define unsavory?”
Padding across the room, I pick up my phone and unlock it. Open the first app, tap on the notification icon, and hand him my phone.
Telling him what I consider offensive is pointless. What bothers me may not disturb someone else, and vice versa. With thousands of followers online and a customer-facing job, I’ve developed thick skin over the years. Brushing off the occasional snide remark is as easy as taking out the trash.
But previous comments never felt this personal. And they didn’t come in a massive wave.
The muscles in Travis’s jaw tic as he scrolls and reads each one. He hands back my phone. “Can you screenshot the comments and send them to me?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
His phone dings with the messages, and he pulls it from his back pocket. “Thanks.”
I close the app, then open the next, and hand him my phone again. “There’s more.”
A low growl echoes in the air. “More?”
I nod.
He takes my phone, his knuckles blanching as he grips it tighter. Closing his eyes, he thrusts the phone in my direction. “Send them to me too.” Head tipping back, he takes a fortifying breath. Then another. Dropping his chin, he rolls his neck, opens his eyes, and moves past me to sit on the edge of the bed. “Fuck.” Elbows on his knees, he drops his head and runs his hands through his hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
I text him screenshots of the comments and lock my phone. Hesitant, I shuffle across the room, each measured step stitching the fissure between us back together. Within arm’s reach, I toss my phone on the bed and wait for him to look up. Wait for those amber eyes to lock me in place.
One breath. Then another.
Watery eyes lift to mine and, in one step, I erase every inch between us. Hands outstretched, he spreads his legs and hauls me to him. I crash against his chest as his arms band around my middle and constrict. As if we’ve done it countless times, I snake my arms around his neck and comb my fingers through his thick, dark hair.
Heat radiates off him and soothes the ache in my bones. I close my eyes, press my cheek to his crown, and let the world disappear. All too soon, Travis pops my bliss bubble.
“No one will hurt you, sunshine. I swear it.” He buries his nose in my neck and inhales. “Morning, noon, and night, I’ll keep an eye out. On your house. The restaurant.You.”
I relax my hold on him and try to step back. But he pins me in place, unwilling to unravel his arms from my waist. With a huff, I deflate and sag against him. For a beat, he breathes me in. Then, after a quick squeeze, his hands fall to the bed.
“Travis,” I warn, taking a step back and putting distance between us. “No.” I shake my head, my hand reaching for my necklace. “No,” I repeat.
His brows scrunch together before he drags a hand through his hair. “No?” He pushes off the bed and paces to the other side of the room. Back and forth. Back and forth. “No?” he parrots, disbelieving. Turning on his heel, he cocks his head. “What do you mean, no?”
“Travis, I—”
“He willnottouch you.” He growls, storming across the room to stand a breath away. “No onewill touch you.” The muscle in his jaw tics. “No one,” he affirms.
Breath caught in my throat, I stare into his molten amber eyes. Read the emotion etched in his unforgiving gaze. Decipher all the things left unsaid, all the things he hasn’t given a voice.
A palpable, red, pulsing cloud, his anger steals the air in the room. Sends my heart into overdrive. Has my fingers twitching at my sides.
On a deep, cleansing inhale, I remind myself his rage isn’t directedatme. No, it is aimed at those treating me with cruelty. It’s aimed at the person leaving me indecent notes. The person threatening my livelihood.
Exhaling, my eyes roam the arch of his brows and slope of his nose, his thicker-than-usual stubble and angle of his jaw. For a moment, I look past his anger. Look beyond the surface. Look for something deeper. Something to take hold of and strengthen. Something to assuage the panic drowning him.
On instinct, I inch closer to him. Invade his personal space. My breasts pressed against his chest, his breaths come faster. I lift a hand to his cheek and cup his jaw, my thumb stroking his stubble.
Eyes falling shut, he leans into my touch. Shivers under my caress. Swallowing, he turns and kisses the heart of my palm. Then he meets my gaze with unyielding determination. “No one,” he repeats, the words a whisper on his tongue.
“I love that you want me safe.” I rest my forehead on his. “But you can’t be with me all hours of the day.”
“Says who?”