This section is far more decorative than comfortable. A couch you’d buy to impress your rich friends—or rental customers. It’snot meant to be sat on for long, much less slept on for the next three months.
“You can’t sleep here.” I stand and move toward him. “Please come in there with me, to the bed.”
“Helena—”
“What?” I close the distance between us. Only once we’re inches apart am I able to make out his beautiful features as moonlight highlights his jawline and eyes. “Am I not allowed to be worried for you in return?”
His jaw sets and he clasps his hands behind his back. “That’s not the issue, and you know it.”
We’re close. Too close. I can smell him—his flint scent, his aftershave. It scrambles my thoughts, makes my pulse skip.
I reach for his hand. He doesn’t pull away.
“Come to bed,” I say, softer than before.
He’s silent for a long time. Then, “Not a good idea.”
“It’s a bed, not an invitation.” My cheeks burn. “There’s enough room for both of us. I won’t bite.”
Even if we’re scent-matched.
Even if I’ve wanted you for years.
Even if?—
His expression flickers. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”
I squeeze his hand, insistent. “You’re exhausted. Please, Zane. It’s just a bed.”
He stands. I wonder if he’ll protest again, but he just nods warily and follows me. I crawl into the far side of the bed, facing the wall. He slips under the duvet, careful to leave a chasm between us.
The silence is different now. Charged.
Zane’s breathing is steady, but I can tell he’s not asleep. I listen to the rain, let it lull me as Zane’s flint scent cocoons me, warm and like home until?—
I purr. It only lasts for a few moments before I catch it and clear my throat to make it stop.
Please, God, stop it.
I’ve neverpurredbefore. But I’ve also not had an alpha, let alone one I’m scent-matched with, sleep beside me before.
Especially not Zane. He’s always been professional. Two beds everywhere—or better yet, a suite where he sleeps on the couch between my bedroom and the hotel room door.
So many years spent perfectly and professional separated but close enough to do his job. And now we’rehere.
Together.
In the same bed.
For probably most of the summer.
Silence fills the chasm between us until Zane asks, “Helena?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re sure you’re all right?”
I close my eyes. My cheeks burn bright with embarrassment. “I’m better than all right.”
