FERVOR

Ch. 15

Christian

What the hell was he thinking, letting his student stay the night at his place? Though, part of him felt awful for giving her the couch to sleep on. It was old and rickety, and his mattress was much more suitable, but what kind of message would it send if he invited her into his bed? Christian knew this could get him in deep shit if anyone found out, yet he found himself worrying about her as he stared at the ceiling. For whatever reason, he hated seeing her cry. He could see her pain, and it hit him hard. 

He cared for her. 

3 a.m. had just rolled around when sleep finally graced him. He hadn't been asleep for more than twenty minutes when he heard a shriek... coming from the living room... where she was staying. 

Fuck. 

Layla! 

The covers were thrown off him in an instant as he hurried to the living room, managing to grab his gun from the bedside drawer. If someone was in the house, Christian would make sure they didn't lay a finger on her. 

He could hear her wailing as he got closer, but he was too focused on a possible threat, gun pointed in front of him. 

The coast was clear... no one was in his flat. 

And so he rushed to Layla, tossing in hysterics. He noted that her eyes were closed, and immediately realized that she was dreaming. Her body thrashed against the couch like a fish out of water. 

What the hell was she dreaming of?

Dreams were supposed to be pleasant, fluffy even. But here Christian watched her suffer, his heart rate accelerating. He flung the blankets off of her form, allowing himself to slide next to her. Christian reached for her and rocked her gently against him, bringing her legs to rest over his. 

"Layla... Layla? I don't know what you're dreaming about, but it's not real. It's okay. You're safe. No one is going to hurt you," he whispered against the side of her face as she began to relax. "Come back to me, sweetheart."

Pride swelled in his heart as he watched her hazel eyes flutter open and cling to his shirt-clad torso. He wrapped his arms around her as she began to cry again. 

Though they were particularly close, there was nothing sexual about the act. It was purely one of 'I'm here for you' and 'let me care for you.' 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Davenport," she croaked out as the last of her tears slipped free. 

"Don't apologize. It's okay." His voice was soft and slow as she began to wipe her eyes. 

"And it's Christian, by the way." 

"I forgot that was your name," Layla spoke against his chest, earning a light chuckle from Christian."but now that I think of it, Christian really suits you."

"Well, I'm glad you think so. I'm not so convinced myself. Anyways, I think it's time for both of us to hit the hay. For real this time." Christian meant for his words to be light-hearted, but to Layla, it sounded more annoyed than anything. He could tell by the change in her mood that she had begun to feel guilty again, embarrassed even. 

"Christian, I don't know what to say. I'm really sorry for waking you up. It was probably just a bad dream, but I know that after a hard work day, that's probably the last thing you'd want. I realize this is a huge risk, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate you opening up your home to me. I promise I'll be out by the morning." She didn't look at him while she spoke.

He didn't like that.

Not one bit. 

With his free hand, he lifted her chin, leveling their eye contact.