Page 69 of Ballrooms & Blackmail

Sleep starts to suck me under.

But just before I’m fully gone, I hear him say softly,

“I’ll stay for as long as I can, little hen.”

Twenty-One

Thorn

I wake up with hair in my mouth.

And…smile.

Then River shifts sleepily against my chest, one leg tangling with mine beneath the blankets, her breath warm against my skin, and reality slams back into place.

I love her.

I will lose her.

The realizations land easily now, easily after a night spent brooding about them in my office, wading through work I didn’t need to wade through, all while knowing what I have to do.

Morning light spreads like dappled gold on her hair, her skin as the city wakes in the distance. I trace that speckled pattern, loving the weight of her against me, the silk of her hair, the softness of her skin, the sexy little sounds she makes as she presses closer even in sleep.

I grind my teeth together, will my dick to cooperate.

It doesn’t care about the stakes, doesn’t care that this shit is tearing me apart.

It just remembers how good she kisses and how great she feels and it wants more.

I want more.

But I won’t push her. I don’t ever want her to look up at me with regret, with pain-filled eyes especially when, sooner rather than later, I’ll have to?—

No.

I can’t think about that right now.

Can’t think about what I have to do, what became clear last night during those long hours I spent brooding in my office.

I rub a hand over my chest, over the ache there.

Because when she finds out what I did, when I do what I have to?—

“Thorn,” she whispers, her thigh sliding up, brushing my dick.

Christ.

“Wake up, little hen,” I murmur, sliding one hand slowly down her back.

Slow. Easy. Careful.

River’s lashes flutter faintly before she blinks up at me, still half asleep.

“Hi,” she murmurs, her mouth curving before she buries her face in my chest, collapsing against me like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

Like she trusts me.

Fuck, that’s a goddamned joke.