Page 74 of Cold Mercy

She bites her lip, looking at me, and lets out a soft, knowing huff.

“Don't try to buy me with that charming little smirk. Remember? I don't date.”

She turns toward the kitchen, and I sit on the couch with my gaze fixed on the flames. Sophia returns a few moments later, carrying two plates, sliding onto the cushion right beside me. Our thighs and shoulders are pressed together, which makes my skin hum. She pulls her knees up to her chest, balancing her plate as we eat in comfortable silence.

After a few minutes, I feel her weight shift; slowly, almost tentatively, she leans over and rests her head against my shoulder. I hold my breath, afraid that even a single exhale will remind her of the walls she's supposed to keep up. I want to reach out and pull her closer, but I stay perfectly still, just absorbing the feel of her hair against my neck. But then I feel her stiffen as she pulls back with a sharp jolt, as if the situation just caught up to her.

I reach out, resting my arm along the back of the couch, and I gently guide her head back down until it's resting on my shoulder again.

“You know, I think I officially want to make a reservation for next Christmas. I’d like to book this same spot for next year,” I murmur.

Sophia pulls back just enough to look at me with a slight, surprised smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Is that so? Well, I should warn you that I have a very high deposit.”

I meet her gaze, my eyes with an intensity that I'm no longer trying to hide. “Name the price, Sophia.”

She stands up suddenly, gathering our empty plates, and heads out toward the kitchen. I turn on the couch, watching her silhouette as she sets plates down and her fingers fly across her phone for a second, and then the opening notes of ‘Every Breath You Take’ fill the room.

She walks back toward me and stops right in front of the fireplace, swaying her hips to the beat of the music.

“In that case,” she says, extending a hand toward me with a graceful tilt of her head, “that’s my price. A dance with Mr. Grumpy.”

I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head even as I feel the irresistible pull to stand up.

“No, no, no, anything but this. I don't dance, princess.”

“Pretty please?” she asks with a soft voice.

I stand up, taking her hand, my fingers lacing through hers, and I pull her into my space as I lift our joined hand to spin her once. When she comes back to me, she lands flush against my chest, her hands naturally finding the back of my neck while my arms settle around her waist.

“I have to ask,” I murmur as we begin to sway. “Since you claimed you don't date…what kind of man actually makes the cut for Sophia Moreau?

She lets out a soft, breathy laugh, her finger grazing my hair, and she tilts her head, watching me with a dangerous kind of amusement.

“Why, Reed?” she teases, her eyes never leaving mine. “You want to submit an application?”

“No, absolutely not,” I lie smoothly. “I’m just curious, for pure research purposes.”

She hums, her body moving perfectly in sync with mine.

“Umm, okay,” she starts. “Someone who listens, not just hears. Like, actually listens.”

I nod slightly, a slow smirk tugging at my lips as I pull her a fraction closer. “Mhm, that's one. What else?”

“I want someone who would sit with me on a porch, half-asleep with a cup of tea, plotting about nothing and everything, just watching the morning. Actually, I don't have a porch, so I guess he'd have to build me one first.”

I let out a quiet huff of a laugh, my hand sliding lower on the small of her back.

“Mhm, a carpenter, noted,” I murmur, pinning her out and pulling her back into my chest. “Go on, what’s the rest of the list?”

“Someone with whom I could stand side by side, equal, stronger…like a team, you know? Like one of us burns the whole world for another, and the other one stands against it without blinking.”

I freeze for a split second, her words hitting a nerve so deep it borders on physical pain. That's undoubtedly what I want with her.

“Mhm,” I breathe out, my forehead resting against hers. “Anything else, princess?”

“Just that,” she whispers, her lips grazing mine as she speaks.

“I think I can make it work,” I whisper directly against her lips.