Page 57 of Guarded by My Gargoyle

She lay still and let herself be happy for exactly as long as she dared.

She’d learned that trick a long time ago. Happiness was real. It just didn’t always stay, so she held it the way she’d hold something she might have to set down. She’d held Toby like that when he was a baby, so frightened of loving him as much as she did that the fear started eating the joy. She was better now. It was still there, though, deep down and humming a warning.

Don’t get used to this.

She ignored the thought and slid one leg towards the edge of the bed. An arm came around her waist and brought her back before her foot found the floor.

“No.”

“I have to⁠—”

“No.” Garrick tucked her against his chest, the wing folding closer, and put his mouth against the back of her shoulder. “It’s early.”

“It’s Sunday. Robin’s bringing Toby back after breakfast. What time do you think that is?”

“Later this morning.”

“You don’t know when Robin⁠—”

“I know what time Eric gets moving with a teething pup.” He said it into her skin, unhurried, one huge hand spread possessively over her stomach, claws retracted. “You have time.”

She should have argued. Arguing was practically her cardio. But he was cool everywhere except where he’d been touching her, and his mouth was working along her shoulder in a way that made arguing a waste of a Sunday.

“You’re very affectionate for a male who communicates in four-word sentences.”

“I’m a male of many talents.”

“That was six words.”

“I’m improving.”

She laughed, and he made a low satisfied sound against her back that she felt more than heard. She turned over in his arms. He let her, watching her with grey eyes that hadn’t gone gold yet, still soft with sleep, and she reached up and ran her thumb along the point of one ear because she could.

Every muscle in him locked.

“Does that⁠—”

“It’s fine.”

“You always say it’s fine.”

“It’s always fine when you do it.”

That was a dangerous sentence to say to a woman before coffee. She kissed him instead of answering, and he rolled her under him with his wings sweeping open across the enormous bed. For a while she forgot about Robin and the time and the warning altogether.

Then his phone went off on the nightstand.

He ignored it. It stopped. It started again.

He lifted his head, and the softness burned off his face like fog. “The board.”

“On a Sunday?”

“They don’t care when it comes to business.” He was already reaching for the nightstand. The change in him was something to watch. The male who’d refused to let her out of bed was gone in a breath, and his face had gone stern and cold again. “Fifteen minutes.”

“Take your call.” She was sliding out from under his wing already, and this time he let her go. “I need to be home before Robin sees me coming back and dies of happiness.”

He caught her wrist as she stood, and held it a second, his thumb moving on the inside of her arm.