I inhaled and exhaled a deep breath before I got to work on a sketch of Ryder and Branna’s twins, Nixon and Jules. Even though I worked on it whenever I had free time, it was coming together slower than I would have liked, and for some reason, I was sure it was because of my nightmares. Every nightmare I had seemed to drain me of life a small piece at a time, and I didn’t know what to do about it. I wished I could talk to Damien about it, but he constantly thought of Morgan and played the what-if game when he thought back to our lives six months ago. And I found myself always assuring him that everything was okay when I needed that same reassurance.
I wanted to talk to Bronagh, but she already had her hands full with her family, and the fact she was nearly due her second baby. I didn’t want to bother her or anyone else with my dumb, recurring issue. My parents were out of the question too; the three of us were preparing to get the results of my ma’s recent mammogram to see if she was cancer free or if she had to go through more treatments. I had no one to confide in, meaning I only had myself to ‘talk’ to, and that led to me overthinking and making myself sick with worry.
Morgan had truly succeeded when he set out to get inside my head. He didn’t turn me away from the Slater brothers for good as he’d originally wanted, but he succeeded in making me doubt everything. Myself. Damien. My life. In my heart, I knew I was happy in my relationship, with my job, my friends, and my family … but that was where the worry came in. I was terrified of losing everything I had. I knew what it felt like to be at rock bottom, and I feared feeling that emptiness again.
“Stop overthinkin’,” I scowled at myself. “Just stop.”
I shook my head and focused on my sketch. I immersed myself in my craft and got lost in the beauty of creating. I glanced at the clock on the wall to my right when I paused for a mini break. It was nearly four a.m., and that shocked me. Time had flown by as I worked. I rolled my neck onto my shoulders, grunting when I heard a satisfying pop.
“Freckles?”
I jerked my gaze over my shoulder, squinting my eyes in time to see Damien emerge from the shadows as he stepped into the room from the hallway. My eyes trailed down his form, and I swallowed. He was naked except for the black boxer briefs he wore, and gazing at his body caused a shiver to run the length of my spine. He was so deliciously beautiful that I wanted to run my tongue over every inch of him.
“Ye’ scared me, Dame.”
“Sorry,” he said, his voice laced with sleep. “I woke up, and you weren’t there.”
I turned back to my easel.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d come in ‘ere and do some sketchin’.”
“When did you come in here?”
“After ye’ fell back asleep earlier.”
He sighed. “You should have woken me up.”
“Why?” I questioned. “You could sleep, and I couldn’t. It didn’t make sense for me to stay in there and disrupt ye’.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he came up behind me and rested his hands lightly on my hips, his thumbs playing with the fabric of my shirt. “What are you drawing, gorgeous?”
“See for yourself.”
“Is that Jules … or Nixon?”
“It’s Jules,” I answered. “Nixon will go next to ‘im.”
“You’re drawing the twins?”
I nodded as I used my finger to smooth out a harsh edge on Jules’s earlobe.
“I want to surprise their parents with it. I haven’t drawn the twins since they were newborns, and they’re just over six months old now, so I wanted to fix that. I’m goin’ to add Ry and Bran in the background, too.”
“Babe, that’s so sweet of you.”
“Thanks. I think they’ll love it.”
I stiffened when Damien tugged my shirt up and slid his hands down from my hips to my behind, his fingers not so gently biting into my flesh.
“Don’t even think about it,” I playfully warned. “I’m busy.”
“Please?” Damien murmured, nuzzling his face between my shoulder blades. “I woke up craving you, freckles.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop my lips from curving upwards at the corners.
“Ye’ say that every single time ye’ wake up with a stiffy.”
Damien’s chuckle was low. “That means I crave you.”
“That’s a cute way of sayin’ ye’ want to get your cock wet.”
He didn’t answer me; he was too busy sliding his hands down onto my bare mid-thighs. I turned to face him with a frown in place. Damien looked at my expression and smiled. He was tired—I could tell from how heavy his lids hung over his luminous grey eyes—but he still wanted me, and that caused me to pause.