Untouchable

Chapter 11: Caveat

Chapter Eleven: Caveat

I shot straight up in my bed, soaked with sweat and breathing heavily. The room was dark, but something was out of place. This wasn't my room. This wasn't my bed.

I wasn't at home.

I looked frantically around the room, and found his eyes watching me wide and confused. Will was sitting in a small chair at the opposite end of the room; it looked like he had been reading, but the book had been abandoned long ago. His hair was in a higher than normal state of disarray. But his eyes told all.

He looked at me in concern, not pity, and confusion. Then I remembered my evening. I lay back against the pillows in a sigh of defeat. It had been a blast, to say the least.

Leaning back against the pillows, I took one hand to push the hair out of my face. Crap.

I dreamt about my little girl. Well, not my little girl—I couldn't know that yet. He had come for her, for me. I remember being pushed into the pool, and Dr. Burnett checking for injuries. Flashbacks to that night. Falling asleep in Will's arms. Asking him to stay with me.

Why can't I have a nice, boring night?

I vaguely remembered him waking me up several times during the night.

I sat up again, bringing up my other hand to keep my hair out of my face. I could feel him staring. I would be flattered that he couldn't keep his eyes off me if I didn't know better. I looked like a wreck…honestly it felt a bit creepy. Will was a many faceted man. But the staring was getting on my nerves.

I pushed the covers off of me—I needed to get out of bed. If I didn't, I was going to fall asleep again. And I couldn't do that. I had definitely over stayed my welcome. I wanted to go home.

I turned to the side, and swung my legs off the bed. Ow. Son of a banana. Mother flipping butt magnets. I hurt all over.

Will moved to help me, but I flinched away. He looked hurt, but moved back to his chair. It wasn't his fault. I did not want to be touched right now—for any reason. I leaned forward, placing my head in my hands, and took a few deep breaths to collect myself.

I looked up and he was staring at me, the façade of reading completely given up; the book was propped open on the arm of the chair. His eyes glinted in the dim lighting. He had a small reading lamp on, but the rest of the room was dark.

Defensiveness was an effective way to put off explanations.

"What?"

"Good morning to you too." He wasn't sincere.

"I had a rough night. I need to get home." I pulled myself off the bed looking for my shoes. At least I still had my clothes on from the previous evening. Nakedness would be awkward.

"Whoa, whoa. Wait a minute." He snorted. "You had a rough night?" He leaned forward in his chair, his messy hair hanging into his eyes. He mumbled. "You were talking all night, not one moment's peace."

I tried not to stare, really I did. And honestly wasn't that I was blind, because I wasn't—I'd noticed it. Will was hot. Even in his rumpled button down, and bare feet. Even with giant circles under his brown eyes, and a long suffering look on his face.

Boys equal bad. No boys for Cate. I learned the hard way. But part of me wanted to touch. Just a little bit?

"What are you running from, Cate?" He pulled my attention to his lips. Mmmm lips.

"Huh?"

"You talk in your sleep. What are you running from?" He scooted forward to the edge of the chair, but didn't get up and move toward me.