It had been three days since I last saw Bryce in person. He’d gone out of town for a case he was working on, which meant I went from having him constantly to not at all, and although he’d gotten back earlier this morning, I had no real reason to call and ask him to come by my place later tonight. No matter how badly I wanted him with me.
Now I was running on fumes. Two nights he’d slept by my side, and already, I’d become addicted to having his big, strong body wrapped around mine.
These past few nights I hadn’t been able to sleep to save my life. I spent each of them tossing and turning, feeling like something was missing. Something in the form of a six-foot-four man with more than two hundred pounds of pure muscle packed beneath his skin.
After how he broke my heart, he was the last man on earth I should crave. But, he made me feel . . . safe. For the first time in my life, when I’d needed someone I hadn’t been alone. Someone had taken care of me. Bryce had taken care of me, and he’d done it better than I could have imagined. Gentle and kind, sweet and loving. Anticipating my every need.
Like a husband.
My protective wall was in shambles, full of holes, and barely standing. I missed him like crazy. The only silver lining was that he’d stayed in contact while he was gone.
Like an addict, I’d kept my phone in hand, reading and rereading the string of texts between us every few minutes over the past three days. And it had to be said, Bryce Dixon was just as potent over text as he was in person. The man was good with words.