Page 111 of At His Beck & Call

I tug the covers back, and she climbs in, tiny in the bed, my shirt engulfing her. I place my glasses on top of my book and put them beside my bed, turning off the light as we both stare at the snow falling past the window.

“Do you think we’ll be able to get to work in the morning?” she asks.

“Yes. But we might need to leave early.”

“Won’t people notice if we arrive together?”

“Maybe. But I’ll deal with all of that. Don’t worry. Where will Henry go tomorrow when you’re at work?”

“I have a wonderful sitter named Jenna. She’ll watch him since he isn’t ready to go back to school yet. If we can drop him off first, that would be amazing. It’ll be nice not to take the bus for once.”

“Do you think Henry will be okay with the sitter? You know you can take tomorrow off if you need to.”

“Oh, he’ll be fine. He can just rest all day in her guest room and watch cartoons. He’s getting his energy back quickly and is doing so much better.”

“Does she feed him well?” I ask, thinking maybe we could stop by a grocery store on the way to the sitter’s place to buy him some food.

“Yes, she makes him all the foods he loves—mac and cheese, hot dogs, peanut butter and jelly. And she’s really good at getting some veggies and fruits into him as well. Better than I am, sometimes,” she giggles.

She snuggles down beneath the sheets, too far away from me. The distance between us is aggravating, and I’m about to do something about it when she scoots closer.

“If you can’t find me in the morning, send out a search patrol,” she murmurs, and I smile, lying back against the pillow, looking into her stormy-blue eyes and itching to touch her.

“Is Henry a good sleeper?” I ask.

“Usually. Sometimes he has nightmares. But if he wakes up and can’t find me, he’ll call for me.”

“I’ll wake you if I hear him,” I say just as Truman tentatively jumps up on the bed, looking at me hopefully. “Absolutely not,” I say, and he reluctantly gets down onto the ottoman at the end of the bed.

“Poor Truman,” Lissa says sadly as she watches him settle down, and with a growl of exasperation, I pull her against my body.

“Hm, well, he’ll just get in the way,” I say curtly.

Her eyes are shining as she looks up at me. There’s no hiding my erection now, and her leg rubs against it teasingly, sending a zinging electricity through my entire body.

My hand slides under her shirt and over her body as she shivers in my arms, and I roll on top of her, keeping my weight light so I don’t crush her.

“We don’t have to do anything, you know,” I say as she looks me over, her pupils dark with lust.

“I want to,” she whispers. “As long as you do.”

I chuckle. “There’s never any question of that,” I say, rocking my hips against her.

I bend down, kissing along her neck as her hands come up to rub my back. I tense as her fingers run over the ridges of the scars under the fabric, but she doesn’t say anything.

I throw the covers back, too hot suddenly, as I tug the shirt over her head and throw it to the side. She’s lying beneath me against the gray of my bed sheets, and I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.

“What do you want?” I ask, the snow sending circular shadows falling across her skin.

“You,” she says simply, and the intimacy of that simple word undoes me completely.

Trying to regain control of myself, I grip her wrists, pushing them roughly over her head as she gasps, arching into me.

“I’m going to tie your wrists to my headboard,” I say as her legs widen. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”

Reaching toward the chair beside my bed, I pull the tie I was wearing from the neatly folded pile of clothes.