She was angry, at him for letting this happen, at herself for letting him let it and part of her wanted to fight against him and push off his hands. But that part kind of lost out against the lure of him and the safety of it, being close to him was dangerous, but being right there? Well nothing else could possibly touch her and she leaned into it. As the emotion poured out of her Claire slid down against him, her face against his shoulder and straddling one of his thighs so her knees didn’t even touch the ground.
It was too intimate, wearing his shirt while he made big stupid promises. Maybe he had her now, but what about later? The good thing about being exhausted and terrified was that it was easy to forget about later and just let it reassure her. It felt good to get it out, to cry until there were no tears left and his shoulder was wet and a little bit stained with blood. “Mike,” she said softly. “I know that isn’t your name.”