7. Haven

7

HAVEN

The movie is almost over, and luckily I've seen it a few times or else I wouldn't have a clue what's going on. I have stared at the screen in front of me, but I haven't paid attention. All of my thoughts are on the massive man sitting next to me. About halfway through the movie, he turned his hand palm up on the cushion between us. He hasn't said anything about it, but it's like the elephant in the room because that's all I can think about.

I'm attracted to my cuddler. I shouldn't be, and I'm sure it's against some kind of rule, but I can't help it. I'm not sure how anyone can not fall for his charm. Just being with him makes me feel protected, seen, and heard. It's like his whole focus is on me and what I have to say. Of course, he is paid to do just that.

I have to keep reminding myself that this is not a date… even though it sure feels like one.

"No pressure, Haven."

I'm so lost in my own thoughts I'm not even sure what he's talking about. I turn to look at him, and he's so close. "Huh?"

He doesn't look at me. "No pressure. I can almost hear the wheels turning, and your mind is working in overtime. No pressure, just enjoy the movie."

His hand flexes, and I think about what it would be like if I put my hand in his. Yea, I shook his hand but I imagine this would be different. His hand would be firm but flexible. It would be way bigger than mine, and I wonder what that would feel like. Would it be like a hug for my hand? While all these thoughts whirl in my head, I'm still not saying anything.

He finally looks at me, and I have to suck in a breath the way his eyes are a darker brown and laced with hunger. If I doubted his attraction to me, I don't now. This is more than a therapy session. At least it sure as heck feels like it .

His voice is husky. "I thought we could go slow. My hand is here if you want to hold it."

This can't be natural the way my body reacts to just the thought of holding his hand. It's crazy, but sure enough, my nipples harden, and there's a pull in my lower belly. I whisper back to him, "You want to hold my hand?"

There's humor in his eyes. "Yeah, peaches. I want to hold your hand."

The nickname surprises me, and I want to ask him about it, but I'm thinking too much about the fact I'm about to hold his hand that I can't even begin to process a question to him about it.

I slowly move my hand across the cushion, and when I'm almost touching him, I stop, and all I can do is stare. Don't get me wrong. I want to hold his hand, but just the thought has me freaking out, but not the normal way. At least what's normal for me. I'm not fearful or anxious. I'm not upset about it or wanting to avoid it; it's more of an overwhelming anticipation.

I huff out a breath as my hand trembles next to his. "You think I'm ridiculous, don't you?"

He flexes his fingers, and I can't take my eyes off his strong, long-fingered hand. "Why would I think that?" he asks .

I lick my lips and look at him. "Because it's just holding hands. It's not that big of a deal."

He sounds casual and not the least bit judgmental about it. "To some people it is."

I hesitate, wishing I had the nerve to reach for him. As I sit here and silently debate with myself, he says, "You know, we're not so different, Haven."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I know you had your mom and dad but not really. Not the way you needed them anyway. I was raised in foster care. Home after home, I made a point of keeping my guard up everywhere I went. I have trust issues, and there are still things that haunt me to this very day."

I put one hand to my chest. "Oh, King. I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

"There were times I wanted to cut myself off from everyone, and I tried that. I was lucky, though. I was thirteen when I was put in a foster home with my four foster brothers and my foster sister. Hell, I feel bad calling them that. They're my family… they are my brothers and sister. If it wasn't for them, I'm not sure what would have happened to me."

I turn to the side, facing him, resting my head on the back of the couch. The movie continues to play, and it's almost over, but it's forgotten as I ask him, "Will you tell me about them?"

He turns toward me, but I notice he leaves his hand open between us. "You really want to hear about them?"

"Of course I do."

He seems to think about it. "Well, I'm the oldest."

I ask without thinking, "How old are you?"

He smirks at me. "Forty."

I nod, quickly doing the calculations in my head. As if I didn't figure it out on my own, he tells me, "I'm fifteen years older than you."

He pauses and then continues. "Holden and Gabriel are brothers. Holden's a baseball player for the Jasper Bears. Gabriel is a firefighter in Whiskey Run. Ledger is in the military, but he's supposed to be retiring soon. Dominic is a mechanic in Whiskey Run, and Chrissy is a nurse at Jasper Hospital, but she lives in Whiskey Run too."

I point to his face. It's something to see the way his face changes when he's talking about his family. "You light up when you talk about them."

The gold specks in his eyes are sparkling. "I love them."

"That's good, King. I'm glad you had them. "

His voice is calm and steady. "I got off track. All that is to say that I know what it's like to be afraid to put yourself out there. I know what it feels like when you think the whole world is against you and you're not sure what tomorrow is going to bring… that's all. So yeah, holding hands is a big deal… I know it is, and there's no pressure. I just want you to know I'm here… if you want to try it… I'm here, that's all."

He searches my face and breaks me with what he says next. "I'm sorry no one was there for you, Haven. I'm sorry that you've spent all this time dealing with things on your own. You didn't deserve that."

He lets out an anguished breath, and it's like I can feel how important this is to him. I can't help but wonder if he puts this much effort into all his clients, but a part of me refuses to believe it. I want to feel special to him, even if I'm not.

I'm silent, and he asks, "What are you thinking?"

I look down at his hand that is still open between us. I suck in a deep breath and slowly move my hand to his. We're both staring as I let my fingers slide across his palm and then line them up with his. We sit there for a moment, neither one of us moving.

He's the first to spread his fingers a little, and I let mine slide between until they curl around his. He closes his hand on mine, and I take in the difference between us. His hands are dark, big, and strong. I'm pale in comparison, but it feels good to feel the strength from his touch. I'm the first to move, and I slide my thumb across his. He holds me tighter, and I slowly lift my other hand, placing it on the back of his. King sharply inhales, and I startle my eyes up to his. "Is this okay?"

He croaks, "Yeah, peaches, it's more than okay."

As I stroke my fingers across his hand and then trace his fingers, I ask him, "Why do you call me that?"

"Because I think you're sweet."

I hold on to his hand as a tremble goes through me. A thousand thoughts are going through my head. He's my cuddler. I've hired him to spend time with me. He's older than me and not just a little, but a lot. He's a charmer and knows the right things to say to make me feel comfortable, but I have to remind myself yet again that even though this is all out of the ordinary, it's not real. This is not a date. And with that thought, I squeeze his hand and then gently pull away. "I should go."

He sighs, and frustration rolls off him, but he doesn't try to talk me out of it. "I'll see you Thursday, then?"

I nod and stand up. "I'll see you Thursday."

I walk toward the door, and he's following me. I could tell him he doesn't have to walk me out, but I know I'd be wasting my breath. We walk side by side, and both our hands are hanging between us. I can't help but imagine what it would be like if we were holding hands like a normal couple. And even though I know it can't happen, I know I'm not going to be able to get it out of my head for the rest of the night.