Awaken Me (The Jaded Series Book 4) (7 page)

I don’t know what it is that alarms me, but I jerk to a sitting position. Something from my lap falls to the floor with a thump. I look around and at first I’m confused because I don’t know where I am. Memories of coming to Nick’s house and finding him on the porch drunk with a gun beside him flash through my mind.

I look down to the floor and see the book I was reading when I fell asleep. I pick it up and put it on the end table. I lean my head back, close my eyes, and try to calm my rapid breathing. Just as my heart starts to beat normally, I hear a noise from the hallway. Pushing the blanket from my lap, I stand up just as the noise happens again. It almost sounds like someone is moaning in pain.

Worried about Nick, I rush down the hallway to his room. I have no idea what time it is but it’s dark outside, so I turn the light on in the hallway. Afraid of what I might find, I gingerly push open the door.

In the light from the hallway, I see Nick is still in the bed with the cover kicked to the side. I slowly walk to him and notice his chest pumping rapidly. He’s breathing heavily and the frown is back in place. He mumbles something in his sleep, but I can’t understand him. He starts thrashing his head in irritation. I want to reach out and soothe him, but I’m worried I’ll scare him awake. His moaning is getting louder and his body starts jerking.

Unable to watch him in this state any longer, I step closer to the bed and reach out to place my hand on his bicep. His skin is clammy.

“Nick,” I whisper worriedly.

As soon as my fingers brush his arm, he settles down. His head turns my way, and I watch as the frown disappears. I run my fingers up and down his arm. He moans again, but it’s not pain filled. It almost sounds like he’s enjoying my touch.

Gently, I lower myself to sit on the edge of the bed. His breathing has calmed some, but I still don’t want to leave him yet. I like watching him sleep. It gives me the opportunity to look at him without seeing the scowl he so often wears.

His thick lashes lie against his cheeks. He’s lost a little weight so his cheeks are thinner than usual, but it makes him no less handsome. And I have to admit the scruff on his face is hot, even though it looks unkempt. There’s something extremely sexy about a man with a beard.

Pushing away the desire to run my fingers along his face, I decide to just sit there and watch him for a few minutes. Without realizing it, my hand has moved from his upper arm to his chest. I know I should move it back. I’ve gone beyond trying to calm him. But I just can’t make my fingers leave his warm skin.

I lightly graze along his pec and a slight moan leaves his lips. I jerk my eyes to his face and see him still sleeping. I feel like a pervert sitting here petting him.

Beneath my hand, Nick’s heart is pounding in his chest and it makes my own speed up. My breathing has also become heavy and with each breath I take, I smell his unique smell. He starts to shift on the bed, and I know it’s time I get up before he wakes. I reluctantly remove my hand and start to stand. But I don’t get far.

One minute I’m getting ready to stand and leave Nick, and the next I’m flat on my back with his warm, hard body lying over mine.

Nick

I’m dreaming. I know I’m dreaming, and I don’t want it to stop. I want to stay in this fake world forever. In this world all is right. I know once I wake up the pain will be fresh again, but I don’t care. It’s worth it to have Anna whole and safe back in my arms, even if it isn’t real. I’m tired of dealing with the pain. I just want it to go away.

The dream started off bad, with Anna dying in my arms, making me promise things I can’t. Once her body went still, I grabbed her tight to my chest and rocked her back and forth, murmuring in her ear, begging her to come back to me.

The dream changed quickly to me and Anna sitting on a grassy hill, watching the sunset. We’re both quiet. My arm is slung over her shoulder and she’s snuggled up to my chest. This isn’t a memory, but my imagination creating visions of us together. Maybe wishes for a future we’ll never have? I don’t know, but I don’t feel pain during the dream, even knowing it’s not real and never will be real.

As we sit there watching the golden rays of the sun fade, I breath in Anna’s scent. She’s always smelled like cinnamon cookies. She used to make me snickerdoodles because I loved the smell so much.

Once the sun disappears behind the horizon, I tip Anna’s face back and gently kiss her lips. She’s pliable in my arms and a soft moan slips past her lips. My tongue runs across her bottom lip and she opens her mouth. I slide my tongue inside and taste the peppermint gum she was chewing earlier.

I gently grip her hair and lay her back against the warm grass. She smiles at me and my heart nearly explodes from the love I feel for her.

I settle down between her spread legs and run one hand down her side until I reach her thigh. I grip the back of it and lift it to lie over my hip. She grinds up against me, and I groan in her neck. I lay kisses there, loving the taste of her.

It’s quiet all around us; the only sound is our heavy breathing. It’s almost as though if we speak, we both know the dream will end, and neither of us wants it to.

I run my nose along the places I just left a wet trail from my mouth and notice her smell has changed. It’s no longer cinnamon I smell, but vanilla and sugar. I frown, not liking the change, but not altogether hating it either. It’s nice, but not my Anna’s scent.

Frowning, I bring my head back and am shocked to find wavy red hair and not straight sandy blonde.

What the fuck?

This isn’t right. Anna has sandy hair, not red. Who in the fuck am I lying on top of? It pisses me off that whoever it is has invaded my dream and replaced Anna.

She has her head turned to the side, away from the fading light of the sun so I can’t see her face. But I know she’s not Anna. I want Anna back. And who in the fuck thinks she can interfere with
my
dream?

I grip the chin of the woman and turn her head to face me. My breath catches as I look into Chris’s green eyes, a beautiful smile on her face.

My eyes snap open, and all I see is a curtain of red. Vanilla and sugar still assault my nose. I’m lying on something soft and warm. My dick’s hard and snuggled against something it likes. I’m disoriented because I don’t know what the fuck is going on.

I lurch back and meet Chris’s heated gaze. I have one hand on her hip with her wrists locked together in my other hand above her head. Her breasts are smashed against my naked chest and I feel the little points of her nipples poking me through the thin material of her shirt. My hips are grinding against her heat, just as I was doing to Anna in my dream.

I pull my hand back from her thigh and rest it beside her head. Instead of yanking back from her like I know I should, I narrow my eyes and growl, “What the fuck are you doing in here?”

She lies still for a moment, her eyes watching me fearfully, but also with desire. She should be afraid. I have no idea why she’s in here, but she shouldn’t be. My body, however, disagrees. The fucking treacherous appendage between my legs likes where she is right now. It gives a little jerk in my boxers, like it’s reminding me it’s still alive and in working order. The fucker’s been worthless for two years, even though I wouldn’t have used it had it been willing to work for me anyway. Since Anna died, Chris has been the only woman to get a reaction out of my body. And I hate it. I don’t want to react to any woman.

Chris’s throat bobs up and down before she replies. “Y-you sounded like you w-were in pain. I came to check on you,” she says quietly, then chews on her bottom lip.

I have no doubt what she’s saying is the truth. I’ve woken myself numerous times by yelling in my dreams.

My grip tightens on her wrists and I watch her flinch. The look bothers me but I push it away. She needs to learn I’m not a nice guy and she shouldn’t invest her time in me.

“You still shouldn’t have come in here. It’s none of your fucking business.”

“I’m sorry. I was worried.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be,” I tell her harshly.

She wiggles a little and I bite back a moan, reminded I’m still snuggled between her soft thighs. I release her wrists with a curse and lift my body from hers. I want to hit something when my idiot dick instantly misses her warmth.

My head starts to pound when I swing my legs over the side of the bed, and I grip it in my hands, waiting for the worst of it to go away. Once I’m sure I won’t puke all over the floor, I lift my head and stare at the wall across from me. I feel the bed shift behind me.

“Why are you here?” I ask Chris.

She’s quiet, but I hear her shuffling feet as she makes her way to the door.

“Jaxon and I came over to check on you. You missed dinner with Mia and Mac a few nights ago and no one could get in touch with you.”

“Maybe that’s because I didn’t want to talk to anyone,” I tell her, but keep my eyes on the wall. It really needs to be repainted. Should I do it before I move, if I decide to?

“Everyone’s worried about you, Nick. They just want to make sure you’re okay,” she says gently.

I jump up from the bed, turn to face her, and have to grab the footboard before my ass hits the floor. The world shifts under my feet and my stomach flip-flops. I grit my teeth and take a few deep breaths, pushing the nausea back down again.

“I’m so fucking tired of hearing that,” I grit out between clenched teeth. “I’m not a fucking child that can’t take care of myself.”

“Well, from the way you’re acting it sure doesn’t seem like it,” she says, her voice rising slightly. I look up at her, surprised at her tone. “Jaxon and I found you out on the porch in nothing but a thin shirt and cut off sweatpants. It’s cold outside, Nick. How long were you out there?”

It takes me a minute to answer, not that I really need to, but this shit is getting old and I’m tired.

“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter how long I was out there. Why in the hell do you care so much? You don’t know me. I wish you would all just leave me the hell alone.”

“I have no idea why I care, but I do. I can’t make it go away. Lord knows I’ve tried.”

I laugh bitterly. It doesn’t stop her.

“Do you think I like being treated like less than dirt? Do you think I enjoy the nasty things you say to me? I don’t, Nick. It hurts every time, but I’m still here. I don’t know why, but something’s pulling me toward you. Something that can’t be ignored. Get used to it. As far as your friends, they love you. You wouldn’t turn your back on them if they needed you, and neither will they.”

With that, she turns on her heel and walks away. Before she steps through the doorway, she turns back. Her eyes are downcast, but I still see the pain on her face. I feel like an asshole, but I push that away too.

“I’ll be in the living room if you need me. You should get more sleep. You look like shit.”

She shuts the door before I can say anything else. Of course, there’s really not much I can say. I know I’m an asshole. Not only to my friends, but especially to her. She hasn’t done anything a friend wouldn’t do. I have no idea why she feels the need to be my friend, but for some reason she does. I don’t know much about her, just bits and pieces here and there from hearing the others talk about her. I know she’s been here almost two years and she has shitty parents.

I run my hand down my face and feel the short beard I’ve neglected to shave off. Maybe I’ll do it tomorrow. Right now I’m tired as fuck and all I want to do is crawl into bed and sleep for the next century. However, sleeping isn’t good for me unless I’m wasted. Looking around, I search for the bottle of Jack I know was there last night. Or maybe I’ve already finished it off? I have no clue. My days are starting to run together. I know I have a problem, but I don’t give a shit. A small part of me wishes I could just drink and drink until I’ve drunk enough and died of alcohol poisoning, alone in my house. At least that way I wouldn’t have to grow the balls to attempt it again myself.

I stumble to the bathroom that’s connected to my bedroom and head straight to the sink. Forgoing looking in the mirror because I know I probably look like shit, just as Chris said, I turn on the cold water, cup my hand and drench my face in the cool liquid. It doesn’t help the pounding in my head. I grab my toothbrush, drown it in toothpaste, and remove the cotton from my mouth.

I wrench the shower curtain back and turn the water to warm. Stripping out of my boxers, I step inside and immediately relax my shoulders as the water beats down on me. I brace my hands on the wall and bow my head.

An image of Chris beneath me on my bed appears behind my closed eyes and blood rushes to my dick. I fight the urge to grab it and stroke. No way am I doing that shit thinking about Chris. An image of Anna pops in my head next and guilt has my gut clenching. Except for when I lost my virginity at thirteen to a girl who lived in Jaded Hollow for a couple years, and a couple other girls at fourteen, Anna’s been the only girl I’ve ever had sex with. Those other times never felt right because they weren’t with Anna. I haven’t wanted it or even thought about sex with someone else since she’s been gone. Even thinking about sleeping with another woman has me breaking out into a cold sweat and my dick shriveling up.