Page 198 of A Vicious Love

“I didn’t ask.”

“Jamison—”

“I am carrying you.”

“I’m almost naked.”

“I noticed.”

Her cheeks flushed.

I leaned in slightly, hand returning to the back of her neck. “No one sees you. Understand?”

The same something moved through me and made my voice roughen. The position, my hand, her body straddling mine, her wide eyes fixed on me—it dragged every buried instinct I had straight to the surface.

Protect.

Command.

Soothe.

Own the space so she could stop fighting it.

“You stay against me,” I said. “Jacket closed. Face in my neck if you need. I’ll get you to the cottage.”

She swallowed. “Everyone will see.”

“No, they won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Because anyone who looks too long will lose the privilege.”

I moved carefully, one arm under her thighs, one around her back. She gasped when I lifted her, arms flying around my neck. Pain shot through my cut palm.

I ignored it.

Her body pressed close against mine, cold and shaking. I had nearly lost her. To one wet rock and my own bad timing. My arms tightened around her, she made a small sound.

I loosened instantly. “Sorry.”

Her face turned slightly against my throat.

“That’s new,” she whispered.

“What?”

“You saying sorry.”

I looked down at her, and kissed her wet hair before I could think better of it.

By the time I reached House Alder, I had developed proof of my sainthood.

Actual, documented proof.

Sienna Bellemere was half naked in my arms, shaking against my chest, wearing my jacket. Her thighs were tucked over one of my arms. Her cheek rested against my throat. Her fingers kept clenching in the wet fabric of my shirt every time the path dipped.

And I did not fuck her.