Page 160 of His Reckoning

“Your room?”

“Relax,” he says dryly. “I’m not dragging you there.”

I laugh despite myself and follow him down the hall.

Once we’re inside his bedroom, he nods toward the bed. “Sit.”

“You’re very bossy tonight.”

“You’re very stubborn.”

I sit anyway. Sawyer steps behind me and rests his hands lightly on my shoulders. Then he starts working the tension out of them.

And … wow.

A surprised groan slips out before I can stop it. “Holy?—”

“Told you,” he says calmly.

His thumbs press into a knot near my shoulder blade, and I swear I see stars.

The room slowly fills with a comfortable quiet. His hands move slowly, working down the tight muscles in my back while the stress from earlier melts away.

By the time the doorbell rings for dinner, I’m practically half asleep, sitting there.

Sawyer steps away. “Don’t move.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Stop saying that.”

I grin.

A few minutes later, he returns with takeout containers and another bottle of wine.

We eat on the floor of his bedroom like two college students instead of in the massive dining room down the hall.

Somewhere between arguing over whose food is better and laughing about something ridiculous Dean apparently did at work, the heaviness from earlier disappears completely.

After dinner, Sawyer gathers the empty containers and tosses them aside.

“You look exhausted,” he says.

“I’m not.”

“You’re about to fall asleep, sitting up.”

“That’s just because you turned my spine into pudding.”

He smirks slightly. “Come here.”

He pulls me closer, kissing me slowly this time. Not rushed or desperate, just warm and steady. The kind of kiss that makes the rest of the world fade out for a while.

When we finally pull apart, I’m still half tangled in his arms.

At some point, we end up back on the bed. The tension between us builds again, slower this time.

By the time everything finally quiets down again, the room is dark, and the city lights are glowing through the windows.