Page 41 of Lennox Lane

His eyes darkened, but his voice stayed steady. “Not tonight.”

“Why?”

“Because you gave me something more important than your body and I’m not stupid enough to treat that carelessly,” he answered.

The words went through her so cleanly she had no defense ready. That was how she ended up moving toward him instead of away. Not dramatically. Not seductively. Just tired. Human. Honest.

Lennox opened his arm without a word, and Lane curled into the space against his side like she had not been craving it since the dance floor. His arm came around her, firm and warm, and she rested her cheek against his chest. His heart beat fast beneath her ear. That comforted her more than it should have. He wasn’t as calm as he looked, and neither was she.

“Lennox?”

“Yeah?”

“If you do anything to Jeanette without telling me, I will set your life on fire.”

“I believe you.”

“This is my story to keep writing,” she let his ass know.

His hand moved slowly along her back, not seducing, just soothing. “Then you lead.”

Lane closed her eyes. “And you?” she asked.

“I follow, protect, and annoy you, Lavender.”

Despite herself, she smiled against his shirt. “You excel at the last one.”

“Very gifted,” he chuckled.

“Tragically,” she laughed as well.

His lips brushed the top of her head. It should have felt like too much, but it didn’t. It felt like warmth. Dangerous, complicated, unearned in places, but warmth all the same.

That was what she remembered now, waking up in his bed with his arm heavy around her waist and his breath soft against her neck. Not the scandal of sleeping beside him. Not the fact that she had stayed. Not even the foolish little truth that she had slept better in his arms than she had in her own bed in weeks.

She remembered telling him and his anger rising. She remembered not having to carry this alone anymore. Behind her, Lennox shifted in his sleep and pulled her closer, his hand spreading over her stomach like he had reached for her even in a dream.

Lane looked down at his arm. She should have moved. She really should have. Instead, she placed her hand over his and let her fingers rest between his.

Just for a minute. Just until the world remembered how to be sharp. Just until she remembered why trusting Lennox Jackson was still a terrible idea. His voice came rough with sleep against her neck.

“You awake, Lavender?”

He’d called her by a pet name, making her blush—happy he couldn’t see the red in her cheeks. “No,” she said.

His arm tightened, and she felt his smile against her skin. “Liar.”

“You wake up annoying,” she grumbled.

“I woke up holding you, so it’s the best morning I’ve had in months.”

“Don’t start.”

“Too late,” he said as he kissed her neck.

Lane closed her eyes, trying not to smile. Outside, morning kept rising, and inside, Lennox held her as if letting go were not on the agenda. Lane let herself be held without immediately planning the escape.

CHAPTER SEVEN