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Although the entire encounter had taken less than ten minutes, he began to feel his system shutting down, compounded by his lack of sleep these last few weeks. It took everything to pull himself together and back into the apartment.
Once inside, he quietly unlocked Harlow’s bedroom door.
He heard her inside, debating her clothes’ choices under her breath, none the wiser about the locked door or his quick sojourn.
He grinned tiredly, then moved away to chow down on the remaining food.
He knocked back the last of the beer, did some chores, and then sat heavily on the couch.
He could feel searing waves of exhaustion crashing against his temples. It was worsening. And it’d be vicious if he didn’t shut it down.Now.
He eyed her door and figured she’d be occupied for a while.
Because they were going nowhere until he’d had some kip.
So he undressed, neatly folded his suit and stretched out.
He sent a subliminal command to his neural node. It shut him down. He blacked out.
Harlow
It took a few more trips back and forth into her wardrobe, shoe rack and bathroom before Harlow was happy with the mix of contents in her suitcase.
Done, she wheeled her small life out into the open living area.
She came to a skidding stop when she caught sight of a thick, giant hulk sprawled out on her green velvet couch. He was out. Cold. Stretched long, like a lithe sinaki puma.
Her hands flew up in frustration. Wasn’t he the one who’d been rushing her to pack AND leave?
She looked around the place, searching for answers.A note, perhaps?
Instead, she found a tidy kitchen.
She spied his plate on the drying rack. Clean, washed and stacked. Alongside the clean skillet and tongs. Plus, all the accessories she’d used to make his meal. Even the counter gleamed from a thorough wipe down.
She glanced back at him.
One thick arm was banded over his rising and falling chest. The other was thrown over his head. His thick thighs were spreadeagled on the couch, but it was his face that arrested her.
He was not a conventionally handsome man, but damn, he was imposing, almost majestic in a street regal kinda way. The twisted skin along his cheek and chin and a semi-smashed nose teased a wild story or two and lent him a vital air of self-assurance, which was crazy sexy to her. He likely gave zero thought about his looks, given the confident, self-deprecating twinkle in his eyes when her gaze had traced over his scars when they first met.
His muscled, thick body was one she’d climb in a minute. But he didn’t seem to be the kind of guy who worked it to get ahead or his way with women.
She guessed he was more about loyalty than anything else. Who else would hightail it onto a mission this tired at the request of a friend if he wasn’t about duty and brotherhood? This man gave off vibes that he could be counted on by those who let him into his intimate circle. He pulled his weight. And hated slacking off. Which is why he, sprawled out cold on the sofa, was significant. He must have been exhausted and rethought his plan accordingly.
Beside him on the floor was his neatly folded armoured suit and a small mountain of weapons she assessed as his suit’s accoutrements.
He’d thoughtfully and kindly left on a barely there, soft-looking under-suit. It moulded into every dip and crevice of his devastatingly stunning body.
She let her eyes feast, just for a moment. Then she wisely backed up, slowly and quietly.
She grabbed a fork from the drying rack, and her to-go dinner bag, complete with a House of M’Osia branded cooler pack. Where inside lay her much-awaited triple chocolate, yuzu sorbet ice cake. Laced with coconut crumbles and nazua nectar, served with a side of Calasian vanilla ice cream. That still beautifully held its form.
Her mouth watered. Finally, YES to her hard-won sorbet cake. Savouring it would help soothe her nerves and save the entirely bizarre evening she was having.
She crept into her bedroom, slid the door shut and left the man to catch up on some much-needed downtime.
Harlow
