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‘No problem.’
‘You’re still in trouble.’
‘For what?’
‘Stalking me.’
‘Get over it.’
I sleepily snort and increase my hold around his neck. ‘And why is Price following me?’
‘I don’t think he was following you this time, princess.’
‘Then why is he following you?’
‘Like I’ve said, probably to see if I have any dealings with Lady Winchester.’
I stifle another yawn as Becker takes the steps and lets us into his apartment. ‘I don’t like him,’ I declare. ‘And if he comes poking around again, I’ll drop-kick his fat arse back to his office.’ He laughs as he lays me on the bed and I sink into the sheets, the scent wafting up making me even more sleepy. ‘I will protect you for ever.’
‘Yeah?’ he asks, smiling through his kiss to my forehead.
‘Yeah,’ I confirm. ‘He should be trembling in his scruffy boots.’
‘You’re crazy, woman.’ Becker’s hands stroking over my hair is hypnotic, and I sigh, rolling over and snuggling down, my eyes refusing to remain open.
‘Must be,’ I mumble sleepily. ‘After all, here I am loving you.’Chapter 21My eyes flutter open, finding a hazy darkness and an empty space next to me in the bed. I blink and gain some focus, looking down my body to find I’m still in my dress from last night.
‘Good fucking morning, princess.’
I look up and find Becker in a chair across the way, he, too, still in his clothes from last night. ‘What time is it?’
‘Five.’
My face bunches in disgust, and I fall back to the mattress dramatically. ‘Why am I still dressed?’
I hear him approaching, and then I feel him gather me up from the sheets. ‘I didn’t want to wake you.’
I curl into his chest as he walks us out of the bedroom. ‘Why are you still dressed?’
‘I didn’t want to disturb my time admiring you sleeping.’
‘You watched me all night?’ He just sat there and looked at me? Why didn’t he strip us down and get into bed, give us naked cuddles?
‘Yes.’ He says no more, passing his bathroom and heading towards the door, and I’m soon being carried down the stairs. ‘I was mulling a few things over.’
‘Like what?’
‘How madly in love with you I am.’
‘That’s because I’m a slave to your corrupt bones,’ I say, frowning into his shoulder as we pass the library and the kitchen, and then we’re at the double doors that lead into his grand hall. ‘Where are we going?’
‘I want to show you something.’ Shifting me in his hold a little, he rummages through his pocket and a few seconds later, the door is open and we’re inside the huge space. I’m detached gently from his body and placed on my feet.
‘What are we doing in here?’ I ask, wondering, worriedly, if maybe he’s going to point out everything and declare its authenticity. My sleepy eyes bounce across all of the pieces. It could take a while.
‘It’s all real,’ he says, grabbing my attention again. My cheeks flush a little when I find him smiling knowingly. If he thinks I’ve pulled a smash and grab on his heart, then I trump that with a breaking and entering on my mind. He can’t blame me for seeking constant reassurance. He’s a master forger. I’m dealing with situations and information that are wildly unbelievable.
Taking my shoulders, Becker holds them firmly and ensures he has my eyes before he goes on. ‘Awake?’
‘Barely,’ I grumble. ‘Why am I up at five o’clock?’
He smiles a bright smile, way too bright for this time. ‘Stay there.’ Releasing me, he wanders off across the room, weaving around the haphazardly stored pieces of art and antiques until he arrives on the far side opposite me. I follow his arse the entire way, but then he turns and I lose my view, so my eyes climb his torso to his face. ‘You looking at my arse, princess?’
I don’t answer. It’s pointless.
He laughs under his breath, dropping his eyes to the floor as he slowly turns away from me again, revealing his wonderful asset. I swallow and imagine sinking my nails in, squeezing and following the sway as he rocks into me. I feel hot in this huge airy room. Then the bastard doubles my weakness when he takes the hem of his T-shirt and pulls it up over his head, exposing the beautiful art on his back. I have no problem deciding what to centre my attention on. His arse is a magnet for my eyes, but I can see that whenever I like – day or night, even when concealed by material. It doesn’t hinder the pleasure. His tattoo, however, can only be appreciated when his back is bare. Like now. It’s stunning. A masterpiece, even if it’s incomplete. I cock my head as I admire it, imagining it whole. The missing piece not missing any more. The key to locate Head of a Faun right there on his back. ‘Do you still think about it?’ I ask out of the blue, my mouth out of control. He flexes his shoulders, making every muscle beneath the ink undulate scandalously. I clench my teeth, watching in awe. ‘Yes,’ he admits, slowly turning around, painfully slowly, his face boyish but manly, his sleepy eyes tender but hard, his soft bristle scruffy but perfect. ‘Except when I’m thinking about you.’ His head tilts. ‘And you?’
