Page 131 of Sinful Lord

Those words snapped me back to reality. He’s been watching me—well, that or he thinks my showers earlier were enough.

Either way, I can’t shake the returning dread. The hurt. The conflict reappears as I roll over and let my cheek sink deep into the pillow.

When I close my eyes, I’m not sure if sleep will bring dirty dreams or terrifying nightmares.

Shit. At this point, how could I even tell the difference?

* * *

I wake up to the sound of clicking.

When I turn over in bed, I find a shirtless Tytus propped up against the headboard, pounding away on his laptop’s keyboard.

“Sorry, angel. Did I wake you?”

Blinking the sleep from my eyes, I look past him. The lake outside sparkles under a tall sun.

“No,” I yawn, stretching out. “I’ve slept enough.”

Tytus’ fingers rest as he looks me over. “You had me worried there for a second.”

“Worried?” I ask, confused.

“You’re a very still sleeper. At least, you were last night. I’m not used to it.”

“Neither am I,” I mumble, wiping my eyes. Usually, I wake up to my sheet hanging off my bed.

Did I not dream at all last night?

Shit. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

“How do…” I’m about to ask how Tytus knows about my sleep patterns, when it all comes rushing back to me. The cameras. The tapes. The lies. The deception.

My rested heart withers.

I want to pull away from the man in bed next to me. But his warmth keeps me from doing anything drastic.

It feels so wrong. It feels so right.

I push myself up, leaning against the headboard.

“Are you still looking for your brother?” I ask, glancing at the screen.

“Sort of,” Tytus nods. “It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always.” My gaze drops as I remember what happened last night. The turmoil of what we went through threatens to saddle me with a migraine, but before I can get too far into my own head, I focus onto one particular thread.

For some reason, though, it’s not the cameras or the tapes that grab my attention. It’s Tytus’ family. It’s his words.

“Last night…” I start, still trying to hang onto a singular issue amongst the mountain range of problems. “You talked about your family....”

“I did,” Tytus sighs, almost like he regrets getting so vulnerable.

“It sounded like you missed them.”

“I do.”

“Even Krol.”