Finally, after a few long minutes he backs away and I wipe his face with the cloth, trying to soothe him.

“I’m okay.” He takes the cloth from me and scrubs it across the back of his neck and looks at me, square-on. His eyes are sad, still a little haunted.

“Want to talk about it?” I ask.

He shakes his head and stands, crosses to the sink and rinses his mouth, splashes his face with cold water and then just braces his hands on the counter top and hangs his head while the water runs.

It occurs to me that we’re both still naked as the day we were born.

I stand and turn off the water and take Leo’s hand to lead him back to the bed. He climbs on and I pull the covers up, spreading them over us and hand him his pillow.

“I can’t go back to sleep,” he murmurs.

“The nightmares won’t bother you,” I tell him confidently and wrap myself around him, as if I’m protecting him.

“How do you know?”

“Because I’m here, and I said so.” I shrug, like that should be the end of it and flinch when he runs a hand down my back.

“You haven’t flinched in a while.” I hear the sadness in his voice and I prop myself up on my forearms on his chest so I can watch his face as I talk.

“I just didn’t expect you to try to comfort me right now, Leo. I’m comforting you, and for the first time in my life, it doesn’t scare the fuck out of me.” His eyes widen and he pulls his fingertips down my cheeks. “I enjoy having your hands on me. Please don’t start thinking that I’m afraid of you or some bullshit like that because you’ll just piss me off.”

“So, this is you comforting me?” He asks with a grin.

I exhale and rest my forehead against his sternum. “Big jerk,” I mutter.

“Thank you,” he whispers and kisses my hair, his hands roaming up and down my back.

“You’re welcome. Will you ever tell me?” I ask softly as he starts to relax beneath my cheek.

“Yeah, but not tonight.”

“Okay.”

***

~Leo~

Sam is draped over me, her arms holding me tightly, as though she’s going to single-handedly protect me from whatever might try to hurt me.

And damned if she wouldn’t. She’s the strongest woman I’ve ever known.

I stroke her back, push my fingers through her hair, and grin when she purrs like a kitten and leans into my touch.

Yes, she’s grown used to me touching her.

The nightmare still sits like dead weight in the pit of my stomach, the images flitting in and out of my mind. I don’t have them nearly as often as I did about ten years ago, but they do still come. I can’t figure out what triggers them. There’s no way in hell that making love to Sam, singing for her, watching her eyes light up with joy and excitement, should trigger the fucked up mess that lives in my subconscious.

I need to talk to her, to tell her about what happened when I was too young to protect myself. She deserves to know. But I’ll be goddamned if I want it to touch her. To see the pity in her eyes, or even worse, revulsion, would destroy me.

I’m just not ready.

“Leo,” she murmurs, surprising me. I would have sworn she was asleep.

“Yes, sunshine,” I whisper and gently caress her soft cheek. Damn she’s soft. She’s soft everywhere, and I can’t stop touching her.

“Go to sleep.”

She’s so damn stubborn.

“You sleep,” I mutter and kiss her head.

“Not unless you do.”

Yep, fucking stubborn.

“Okay, I’ll sleep.”

“Liar.” She sits up and offers me a sweet grin. “It’s almost dawn anyway. We could go for a run.”

I pull her back to me and roll her so she’s tucked beneath me, cradling my pelvis in hers and her hands immediately find my ass.

I brace my elbows beside her head and bury my hands in her hair, nuzzle her nose with mine, and then sink into a long, slow, wet kiss. She makes me forget the shitty past, and is the first person I’ve been with that makes me feel as alive as I feel when I’m playing music.

I’m never letting her go.

My cock is painfully hard again, and rubbing against the wetness from her pussy. Each time I hit her clit with the tip, she moans and bites her lip. I reach over for a condom, but she stops me, links her fingers in mine and pulls them to her face, rubbing the back of my hand on her cheek.

“We don’t need the condom,” she whispers, her gorgeous blue eyes watching mine intently.

“Sam.” I kiss her tenderly. “I’m fine with the condoms.”

She shakes her head and cups my face with her free hand. “We don’t need them,” she repeats. “I have an IUD.”

“But…” I begin, but she interrupts me again, kissing me with those pouty lips of hers, pulling on the hoop in my lip.

“I trust you,” she states firmly, eyes still on me and happy, and I know that statement is possibly the most profound Samantha Williams could have made to me.

“I trust you, too.” My lips find hers again, sweeping back and forth, teasing her sweet tongue with my own, and I pull my hips back to slowly sink into her tight, wet warmth.

She gasps and smiles. “So much better this way.”

“Jesus H. Christ, Samantha I’ve never not used protection,” I admit and watch her closely.

“Me neither.” She grins. “I think I prefer it.”