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“We’ll talk about that later,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and smoothing her hair back from her face. “Sober up.”
She nodded, enjoying the feel of his hand and not knowing when she again slipped into slumber.
* * *
Desdemona opened her eyes, and the darkness of her bedroom startled her. She flung back the covers and sat up in bed, swinging her legs over the side. She remembered Lo carrying her to bed after she overindulged in wine. Everything before that was a blur.
Still cloaked by darkness, she remained still and enjoyed the quiet.
“I feel like I can’t stop.”
“So do I,” she whispered into the ebony. “So do I.”
The halls light turned on, and she looked to the door just as Loren leaned against the frame. “You’re up,” he said.
She reached over and turned on the bedside lamp, casting the room in a soft glow of light. “Just thinking through some things,” she said. “I have a lot of decisions to make.”
He stepped into the room, pausing to pick up her robe from the bench at the foot of the bed. “Is that what the drunkfest was about?” he asked, opening the robe to drape over her shoulders.
Giving him a smile of thanks, she eased her arms into the robe but let it hang open on either side of her body.
“You want to talk about it?”
She leaned over to lightly knock her shoulder against his. “I’m thinking about leaving my business behind,” she admitted.
“Wow,” Loren said in surprise. “Why? It provides you a good living.”
“Just too many burdens to keep it going,” she said truthfully, and feeling such sweet relief to say it. “It feels like it’s weighing me down.”
“Are you secure enough—moneywise—to leave it or sell it?”
Sell it? I wish.
“Yes,” she said, thinking of all the money she had squirreled away over the years.
“Then take the money you’ve made and run toward some kind of happiness,” he said as if it were all that easy.
Is it?
“What time is it?” Desdemona asked.
“Two.”
“In the morning?”
He chuckled. “You went down the first time for an hour. I came over after you dropped your phone when I wouldn’t come to give you some sexual healing.”
She grimaced, remembering it now. “Come heal me, Lo,” she mimicked herself, shaking her head and hiding her face in her hands.
“So that was an hour you lost by the time I got here, and you opened the door butt-ass naked.”
“And you’ve been here all this time.”
“Studying . . . and cooking dinner, or is early breakfast now?” Lo asked, rising to his feet and holding out his hand to her.
He looked good in a navy blue V-neck sweater and distressed denims. Something in her, deep in her, that she didn’t want to face caused her soul to warm as she slid her hand into his and let him pull her to her feet to follow behind him.
“You do know that robe open on you like that is sexy as hell, right?” he asked without looking back.
