Page 137 of Cozen

Jett was not the only man in the mansion who came prepared to make Cozen far more comfortable with her night. Sargon had been counting down to this evening, after all. It had only been a matter of time before it happened.

He’d prepared for it, too.

Prepared to help her, anyway.

She just had to use it.

Jett was wrong when he assumed Sargon wouldn’t linger in his private rooms. Lingering, and quietly searching through Jett’s belongings—not that he found anything interesting, or something that might hurt Cozen—was the only thing that kept him from going downstairs, and ruining Jett’s night entirely.

By taking Cozen away.

If she didn’t want this—didn’t want to do this—the woman wouldn’t do it. It was as simple as that. Sargon forced himself to repeat those words even as he set out the things he had found in the black duffle bag at the foot of Jett’s bed.

Sargon had even rifled through those things a bit.

Some items were obvious—safety measures, like condoms. Sargon wondered how long it had been that Jett didn’t keep a pack of those on him. Or maybe it had been just long enough that he recently ran out. Who was to say?

Other things were not as obvious. The pretty white box wrapped with a red ribbon, for example. Sargon carefully unwrapped that present to find a black lace lingerie set that would make the devil’s cock hard, frankly.

It left nothing to the imagination. Scraps of thin, pretty fabric that would be easy to rip off, and would look damn good for the short time a woman wore it.

Jett had good—and expensive—taste.

Sargon hated that, too.

Once he had put everything where it needed to go between the respective bathrooms, he took the chance to look around Jett’s master bedroom. It had the same look, feel, and style of the man’s office.

A large, four-poster bed that dominated the space in a dark wood stain. Deep, rich colored rugs, bedding, and tapestries decorated the space. More bookshelves lined with old, leather-wrapped books. A small bar meant for one or two people, but with only the very best top-shelf liquor setting next to the crystal glasses. A walk-in closet showcased Jett’s love for tailored, name-brand suits, Italian leather shoes, and Rolex watches.

A person could take a handful of the man’s jewelry he left sitting out in the open inside his walk-in closet, and make a killing selling the items at pawn shops.

The two bathrooms were polar opposites. One strictly meant for a man, and his business. The towels being a dark, rich brown like the tilework in the shower, and the shiny marble on the countertops. While the other bathroom was more feminized even in its soft colors, and pale beige towels.

Before Sargon thought to change his mind, he moved back into the bathroom, and left his little gift for Cozen sitting under the white box with the red bow. He had used the notepad and pen he found in Jett’s nightstand to scribble a quick note that he folded up around the small bag.

Just in case.

It was only when Sargon heard the laughter rumbling from down the hall that he finally decided it was time to stop lingering. Male laughter, and female. Both he recognized. Only one, he loved.

Sargon slipped into the only opened door just down the hall from the master bedroom at the same time Cozen and Jett rounded the corner near the large stairwell.

Jett’s office.

Their forms passed by the door, and their laughter continued. Although, he was pretty sure he could hear a soft note of stress in Cozen’s sweet laugh. It just wasn’t as musical—not as high and free as it usually would be.

Neither of the two noticed him standing just a few feet in the office hidden by the shadows. He always did blend in quite well with the darkness.

Sargon didn’t leave the office. Not even when he heard the bedroom door close down the hall. He had other things to do, now.

Cozen’s laughter died the very second Jett closed the bedroom door behind them. His subtle touches and whispered words suddenly became far more forward, and clear. She barely had time to turn around to face him, and he was in front of her.

On her.

A hand grabbed her clutch, and tossed it aside before coming around her waist pulling her closer. His other hand snaked into the free waves of her hair to tangle into the strands, and tug firm enough to keep her in place. His body beneath his fitted suit pressing tightly against hers—so tightly she could feel his growing erection pressing into her clenching stomach.

Fight or flight wanted to kick in.

Cozen forced herself to relax; she calmed to give her brain a chance to take in her surroundings, and figure out a way out. Or … something.