Dane

The next morning Dane opened his eyes to the near dark of early morning and the warmth of Lila's back nestled into his chest. Reluctant to wake her, he couldn't resist sliding his hand down her side, following the line of her hip as he inched away from her in the bed and sat up slowly.

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She sighed and rolled over, but didn't wake.

He took a moment to stare at her, her pale skin a smooth pink in the low light. She always slept with her legs curled up and her hands near her face. Like a child. It delighted him to see her so relaxed. She looked so young.

Knowing that if he kept staring he'd lay back down and start touching her, wake her up, he forced himself to turn away and put his feet on the floor.

He'd only slept a few hours, but that wasn't uncommon. Especially here. Much as he loved the sense of solitude, the only downside to the apartment was the lack of windows. He'd installed sun tunnels to bring natural light into the rooms. But it still meant he was closed inside four walls every minute he was here. The feeling of a prison always made him tense over time.

Knowing they'd been awake late and Lila would probably sleep for hours yet, he decided to go back to the Penthouse and work out in the gym. He dressed carefully so he wouldn't wake her and left a note scribbled on the dining table just in case.

An hour later, and a lot sweatier, he let himself back into the apartment, stopping just inside the door to listen. But there was nothing. She was still asleep.

Dane smiled and headed for the shower, peering into the room briefly to make sure she was still asleep. He wasn't sure whether to be happy or sad when he saw her still curled up in the bed. But he forced himself to shower, then work in the kitchen as quietly as he could until after nine.

Putting the dough he'd made into the warming drawer for the final rise, he gave himself permission to wake her and his heart started beating faster immediately.

He washed his hands and set the timer for the dough, then trotted down the little hall to the bedroom where he sat slowly on her side of the bed because he knew if he laid down he wouldn't get back up.

When she didn't wake at the shift of the bed with his weight, he chuckled a little. She was a deep sleeper. He liked that he knew that about her.

Tempted by so many pieces of her, he forced himself to be gentle, and simply combed her hair back from her face with his fingers until her eyes fluttered and she pushed up on one elbow, squinting at him. Her eyes were puffy and her cheeks pink with the warmth of the bed.

She looked around for moment, then obviously remembered where she was and turned back to him, smiling. "Good morning, gorgeous," she rasped.

"You took the words right out of my mouth," he said softly.

She reached for him and pulled him in for a quick kiss, but when her fingers slid into his hair and found it damp she pulled back. "You already showered?"

His lips slid up on one side. "Among other things."

"How long have you been awake?"

"I don't know, a couple hours."

"Dane!" she whined and sat up, pulling the blankets back. "Why did you let me sleep? If you're up I want to be up. I want to make the most of this!"

"I wanted you to rest. We were up late last night."

With a glare she scooted out of the bed, muttering something about bossy men, then hurried to the bathroom. "I'll be fifteen minutes!"

He laughed and headed back to the kitchen to set the table, but before he even made it that far, she barreled back out of the bathroom and into his arms. He said, oof, and pretended to stagger under the pressure as she flew into his chest. But she just clung to him, her arms around his neck and her face in his chest.

"I love waking up to your face," she mumbled into his shirt.

Dane's heart flipped over. Unable to speak for a moment, he dropped his head to the top of hers, squeezing her tighter. "I love it too," he murmured.

Then she stood back from him, staring up at his face for a second before sighing. "Gah. Give me twenty minutes. I need to feel like I've earned the right to stare at you in all your glory."

He smiled, but wished he knew how to describe the feeling in his chest as he watched her stomp back to the bathroom. He was…floored. She was so open. So honest. So…loving.

Dane swallowed because there was no other word to describe her. But even thinking that…it opened up a can of worms he'd sworn he'd never open again.

Lila was a loving person. To everyone. But she seemed especially determined to love on him.

That thought should have frightened him. The potential consequences of it left him terrified. But the feeling? It was all he could do not to tear down the door into the bathroom and join her in the shower.

They were falling for each other. Hard. He wouldn't define it—and wouldn't ask her to. But he knew he'd never felt this way about anyone before. And from what she'd already said, neither had she.

He'd never really believed in soulmates or any other kind of fated love. But he couldn't deny, they'd seemed drawn to each other since the day they met. And having her close now, touching her…he couldn't bear the idea of being apart.

How was he going to let her go back to her place tomorrow night when they had to?

How was he going to walk the halls at work, or sit in a meeting, and not leap on her?

How could he let her go to dinner with another man?

Dane growled in his throat and yanked the deep drawer open that held his plates so hard the dishes clattered inside.

He'd been fooling himself with all that talk of keeping their routines, and only seeing each other a few times a week outside work. He had been lying to himself and to her.

It wasn't hard to admit. But what did it mean?

Shying away from that aspect of his life, for a moment as he set the table and prepared the cinnamon rolls, he let his mind drift to what it might be like. What could be, if they didn't have a psychopath to deal with.

He imagined waking up to her every morning. Making love to her whenever he wanted—maybe even at work.

He imagined late mornings in bed, and late nights at a restaurant, losing track of time because they were too busy talking.

He imagined vows, and rings, anniversaries and birthdays.

Well, maybe not birthdays. At least, not his. But…

He imagined Lila, glowing, her face plump and stomach plumper, waddling over to give him a piece of her mind then demand he rub her feet as she groaned about what he'd done to her.

He imagined curling against her in bed when they were no longer just two, but soon-to-be-three.

Blinking, Dane cursed and raked a hand through his hair. Clanging trays and checking the temperature on the oven three times, his breath pushed through his teeth as he tried to mentally flee the picture that was now burned into the retina of his mind's eye.

Lila, with a ring on her finger, and a baby in her belly.

His ring. His baby.

He swallowed convulsively as his heart sped, not in excitement, but in terror. Because immediately following that image…

Lila, dead. Her blood splashing the walls. Her hand hanging off the bed, peeking out from under a quilt used to cover the evidence of her violent death.

Dane leaned on the counter, gripping its edge until his knuckles turned white. He sucked in a heaving breath through his nose and shook his head. But it wouldn't stop.

Lila dead.

Their child—

"That smells divine! What is it?" Dane blinked and forced himself to breathe as she slid up behind him and wrapped her arms around his stomach from behind. "How did you know cinnamon rolls were my favorite?" she gasped, then hesitated.

They stood there like that, her wrapped around him, him gripping the counter, for two breaths. Then, "Dane? Why are—you're shaking."

"I'm fine," he managed, his voice little more than a rasp.

He straightened and turned towards the stove, but she ignored his words and put herself in front of him, staring at him, worried. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Really. I mean it. I just…got lost in my own thoughts for a little while," he said and leaned down to kiss her. "Let me get you some breakfast. These are almost ready."

She frowned, but didn't say anything, just followed his instructions to sit down at the table. But her eyes followed his every move.

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