Bayou

Chapter 24 ~ Feelings

CROC'S POV

Chapter 24

Her breaths were deep, her heartbeat rhythmic. She was sleeping—in my bed, on my arm. Her pants were still wrapped around her knees, and her legs were bent. The curve of her hip and the skin of her thighs bare, tempting. She'd let me. She'd asked me to. She'd rocked against my hand and made those little noises that lit my blood on fire. My touch had done that. I had done that. I'd made her come apart, come alive, and I'd never felt stronger, more capable, more skilled. I blew out a breath. She hadn't seemed upset about it after. She'd seemed happy. I'd made her happy. My chest swelled, building pressure until I wanted to crow. I wanted to whoop up into the sky, wake the swamp so it could watch me beat my chest and dance across the roof. But then her hand innocently drifted from my chest to my navel, and I wanted to do something else entirely.

I tensed and held my breath, fighting the urge to roll over and take everything. That wasn't the plan. That wasn't what she needed, and I wouldn't have her comparing me to the men she'd told me about.

I ground my teeth and shifted away, careful not to wake her.

Willow stirred, muttering soft shapeless words as she pulled her knees up tighter and clutched the blanket where I'd been. She was searching for me. She didn't want me to leave, and the urge to return grew. I bit my lip, unsure what to do. She was impossible to read. I couldn't rely on her scent, her expression. They never matched how she really felt.

What would she do if I did? How would she react? Things had been different tonight. If I dropped down, pulled her jeans away, removed that soft purple material she wore under, and buried myself inside her... My jaw clenched, hands fisted, and I shifted uncomfortably on my spot. She'd probably scream. I'd probably scare her half to death, and then I'd be something different to her. I'd be the animal she saw me as when she first arrived, and I'd worked too hard to become a man.

I draped one of the loose blankets over her, immediately mourning the loss of her skin. I had to be patient. I had to wait. She needed to choose to give herself to me, and until she did... I turned away to gaze at the canal below. I needed to swim.

I jumped off the roof, sprinted across the yard, and dove in, pushing my muscles as hard as I could, expelling the tension, creating the distance I needed in order to protect her from the part of myself she couldn't see. But every brush of the water felt like her, and no matter how hard I tried, all I could think about was the fact that she was there, on the roof, in my bed, barely clothed and ready to be caught.

I stopped abruptly and stood, breathing hard and angrily rubbing the water from my face. It wasn't working. Maybe I was an animal. Maybe I wasn't the man I pretended I was. Maybe I really wasn't any better than the others, and maybe Willow knew more about me than I did myself. If she knew the thoughts I had, the things I imagined doing to her, all the time, when she ate her breakfast, when she made the children laugh, when she just sat and did nothing, just existed.

The urge to go back intensified. I ran a hand through my hair, yanked the strands, then hit my chest, once, twice, same place, letting the pain suck me back to the present. Do not go back there. Not now. Not yet. You're not an animal, and if you act like one, you'll hurt her. I ground my teeth and stood frozen for a long moment, running the words over and over in my head, feeling the water rush past me in the direction I wanted so desperately to go.

"Croc?" Gator hissed.

I opened my eyes and watched him wade toward me. "Who's watching Danny?"

"He's asleep," he said. "But I stay beneath the water most of the time with him, so even if he wakes up, he won't know I'm gone." He stopped a foot away and let his whole back and tail float to the surface. "He's not that smart and even less brave."