Free For Her Protection: An Alpha Romance by Amber Bardan Page B

jerked upright. Another bang shook the room and she rolled out of bed, knocking her side table. A glass lamp fell and shattered on the floor. She froze. Her heart pummeled the inside of her chest, fast and painful.
    The door slammed inwards and crashed against the wall. A large figure filled the doorway, streaking terror into her limbs.
    Her chest clenched—she couldn’t catch her breath. The room pitched.
    “Charlie, are you okay?”
    The words barely penetrated her ringing ears. She couldn’t breathe, her chest squeezed tighter.
    “Shit. There’s glass everywhere.”
    Silence then a sound, and hands were on her just in time to stop her from hitting the ground. She clutched her hands to her chest but couldn’t speak—couldn’t draw breath. A rumble rippled over the room, this time softer. She had no choice but to let herself sink into his arms.
    “It’s just a tiny earthquake. It’s over, just try to breathe.” He scooped her up, and laid her on her mattress and sank down beside her. He smoothed the long, loose hair out of her face, ran fingers down her spine, drew her out of her own head and back up to reality.
    The squeezing in her chest became a more manageable pressure. She opened her eyes to look at him and realized something she hadn’t noticed before. Connor had faint but gorgeous laugh lines around his eyes. Now they were furrowed but not with laughter. She struggled to absorb the expression on his face, the look of someone who cared.
    She wanted to freeze the image in time, hold onto and cherish it.
    “What’s going on here, Charlie?”
    She fell out of the trance she’d been caught in. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean, I saw you after two guys tried to abduct you in a parking lot. You don’t scare easy.  So what’s going on?”
    She looked at him, only now registering that he wore only t-shirt and boxers, and the fact that she was in her whimsical unicorn pajamas.
    And he was on her goddamned bed.
    How could she respond to that question anyway?
    How could she admit the pressure she’d been under? The quiet fear she kept that she wasn’t good enough—even as she fought for her position. If he spied for Frank, she couldn’t tell him how she was haunted by the faces of the people she’d given the courtesy of advising their jobs were gone—to their face. She couldn’t say how as much as she loved the people she worked with, she loathed the industry. That it wasn’t at all unusual for her to wake up with her heart punching fistfuls of dread into her throat.
    Frank would only have more ammunition, and she was so freaking tired of having to defend herself.
    “I was having a bad dream when I was woken up.” Close enough to the truth without giving too much away.
    His big hand blazed heat against her back. “Would you like a drink or something?”
    “You’re not my servant, Connor.” She scooted back on the bed and leant against the head board. “But, thank you.”
    He lingered at the foot of the bed. She’d never get back to sleep now. He ran a hand over the top of his head and watched her. From the looks of him, neither would he.
    Since he’s already here…
    “If you want to keep me company for a while that’s fine.” She bit the inside of her cheek.
    Connor crawled up her bed to the other side and leaned on the pillows next to her. Her whole body went warm. What had she been thinking?
    Company ?
    The bed dipped towards him. It wasn’t company she wanted from him.
    “Do you have bad dreams often?”
    This was a terrible idea.
    She shifted her legs and drew up the covers so she was under them and he was on top. It didn’t seem less intimate. “Sometimes.”
    “What happens when you do?”
    “I’m a grown up, so I survive them. But if I can’t get back to sleep I watch T.V. or read.”
    She turned to look at him. “What about you?”
    “What about me?” He squinted slightly.
    “Do you have bad dreams?”
    “I don’t dream.” He propped up on his elbow and even though