I scrub a hand across the back of my head and force myself not to think about the way she felt in my arms. I’m already feeling the loss of her and she’s just standing a few feet away from me. “For what?” I ask.
“Tequila is going to foal tonight.”
She’s speaking a language I don’t know.
“She’s going to have her baby,” she clarifies.
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say to that. “Do you need to call a vet?”
“No, I’ll sleep here with her.” She points to a stack of blankets in the corner. “She does most of the work. I’m just here for moral support and to help if something goes wrong.”
I scratch my head, not sure what to do with myself. “Should I go?”
She worries her lower lip between her teeth. “Want to stay with me?” she asks quietly.
God, I want nothing more. I want to sleep with her and hold her against me. Yeah, I want to have sex with her, too, but that’s the least of my desires. I nod.
She spreads out blankets on top of the hay bales where we were sitting. She motions for me to lie down and then crawls into my arms. I let out a contented sigh. “What time is it?” she asks.
I look at my watch and yawn. “Eleven thirty.”
“Late,” she whispers.
She lays her head on my chest and wraps her arm around my middle. “Let me hold you,” I say, and I press my lips to her forehead.
Her exhales tickle the hair at the neckline of my shirt, and I’m instantly hard again. I pull her leg across my lap, and she snuggles even closer to me.
“Hey, Pete,” she whispers.
“Yeah?” I whisper back.
“I want to kiss you again tomorrow,” she says quietly. She giggles, and it shakes my chest. That’s the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.
I want to kiss her again tomorrow, too. A lot.
###
In my dream, I’m running toward the sound of Reagan’s voice. I can hear her clearly, but I can’t see her. I know it’s a dream, and dreams can be f**ked up, so I’m not panicking. But she is. She’s clearly upset, and I look for her everywhere in the mist. I can’t find her. Suddenly, I’m jerked from my dream and find myself lying beside Reagan in the barn where we fell asleep. She’s making choked little cries from the back of her throat. I look down at her. She’s the one dreaming. Her eyes are squeezed shut and she has curled herself into a ball. When we fell asleep, she was draped across me. When did she scoot away?
“Reagan,” I coo softly. She flinches and bats at my hand. She’s still dreaming, and I don’t know how to pull her out of it. “Reagan,” I say with more force. Her eyes blink open as she slowly wakes. She bats her lashes at me as I look down into her face. She’s breathing hard, but she quickly calms.
“I was dreaming,” she says. She looks around and settles back against the blanket, her body softening.
“Bad dream?” I ask.
She nods. I roll onto my side and rest my head in my hand so I can look down at her. She scoots closer to me, and I drape my arm around her waist. “Sorry,” she murmurs.
I tug her waist, pulling her to me. “Don’t be,” I say.
“I used to take medication to help with the dreams, but they made my head foggy so I stopped them.” She looks up at me, her green eyes blinking slowly. “Sometimes I don’t sleep well.”
I brush her hair back from her face. “You dream about what happened that night?” I ask.
“Sometimes.” She looks away and avoids my gaze. She doesn’t want to talk about it, apparently.
I want to ask questions, but I don’t want to bring it all back up for her if she has pushed it from the forefront of her mind. “Do you relive it in your dreams?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Not the rape, specifically,” she says. She says it like it’s such a common word. My gut clenches. “I dream more about the feelings. Regret, mainly.”
“What do you regret?” I ask.
She looks up at me, almost like she’s seeking a connection with me, and I like it. I f**king love it. “I regret going to that party,” she says. “I should have been in my dorm studying.”
“Did you know him?” I ask. “Or was he a stranger?”
“I had never met him. That’s why I feel so stupid over it. I never should have been alone with him in the bathroom. Alone with a man I didn’t know.” She heaves a sigh. “One minute he’s kissing me, and then I’m calling out to stop because it just doesn’t feel right. But he wouldn’t.”
She shivers, and I want to draw her inside me and protect her. A tear slips from the corner of her eye and tracks down her temple.
She sniffs. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cry on you.” She chuckles, but it’s a watery sound.
“You came while riding my knee, princess,” I say quietly. “I think you can cry on me, too.”
Her face colors, but she smiles. She whispers, “I’ve never done that before.”
“No one has ever made you come?” I ask. I know the answer to this, but I want to hear her say it. I don’t know why. I just need it. I slide my leg across her thighs and put some of my weight on her, but she doesn’t seem to mind. I really want to open her dress so I can lay my hand on her belly. But I settle for this moment, instead.
She shakes her head.
I run my finger down her nose. “You never did that yourself?” I ask.