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“Will—”
“Your standard kidnap and ransom deal,” I say, even though that’s not the full story, or even the truth, since the details of the threat were a little more gruesome than that.
“Someone threatened to kidnap you? Seriously?”
I squeeze my eyes tight and wish to wake up in an alternate universe where I’m just a regular man and Virginia is exactly Virginia. There’s no point lying; unless the kidnapper is caught before I leave on tour, I’ll have to tell her, anyway, since she’ll be living with a twenty-four-hour security detail.
“Not me. You.”
Her first look is of surprise. And then she laughs. “As if! I mean, our new recliners are nice, but kidnap-worthy?”
I can’t tell if this is a stress reaction, the way some people laugh when they’re scared, or if she doesn’t understand that she’s a target because I would pay any amount of money to keep her safe. My answer comes soon enough, since her eyes pool and tears roll down her cheeks.
“I don’t like this life, Will. I love you, but—” She chokes in a ragged breath.
I push into the bed beside her and wrap her in my arms.
“I can’t live like this.”
“I know,” I manage to say past the painful lump in my throat. “I am so sorry I put you in danger. I was a fool. I knew better. I was being selfish.”
I stroke and drop kisses on her tangle of wet hair, trying to imprint our connection into my very DNA since I know this will be one of the last times I’ll be able to hold Virginia like this. When she tries to pull out of my hug, I squeeze tighter.
“I’m so tired. I just want to fall asleep in your arms,” she whispers.
We strip out of our clothes, and I curl myself around her warmth. She falls asleep before I do.
When the sun starts to light the room, I’m not sure if I’ve slept at all. Virginia continues to dream, still pressed tight against me. In four days, I’m leaving for six weeks in Europe. I try to tell myself that I’ll be too busy to miss her. And that once I’ve been away for that time, I’ll be over my addiction to Virginia’s voice when she whispers and sings to plants, her laugh at the most mundane things, her scent in my bed, the taste of her on my lips, the feel of her curves under my fingertips.
I tell myself it’s for the best—if not for me, for her. I love her enough to set her free.
Though she won’t be truly free until the fucker who made the threat is found, charged, and hopefully imprisoned for the rest of their lousy life. I’ll never learn the identity of this person since I cannot trust myself not to take justice into my own hands. But the team will let me know when the threat has been neutralized. Until then, Virginia will have to live with the same level of protection I’ve endured my entire adult life. More, actually.
I pull her tighter against me. She’s all but enveloped in my hold. I guess I squeeze a touch too hard, since she squeaks, wiggles, and rolls to face me.
Her eyes blink open in the dim, early light. “Good morning.” Her smile tells me she’s not fully conscious yet because once she remembers last night, I can’t imagine she’ll be so happy to see me.
“Hi, beautiful,” I reply, wishing I could capture the peace of this moment and stay here forever.
Awareness dawns on her face. Her eyebrows pinch together and her tension crushes my heart.
“Do you think for the next twenty-four hours, we can just pretend the hounds are more of your brothers and have a normal day?” she asks.
“I’d like that very much.”
“Me too.” Virginia kisses my neck, my chin, my lips. “You know what else I’d like very much?”
“I think I do.”
I push myself away from Virginia’s side and straddle her body, holding myself entirely above her so no parts of us touch. She sighs and closes her eyes. Her jaw relaxes and she yawns. She makes fists and then starfishes her fingers. Her shoulders fall closer to the mattress. Her hips rise just enough to touch me, then fall. I can’t see her thighs, but I know she’s relaxed her legs too.
She’s ready.
I was born ready.
I lean forward and kiss her forehead. She opens her eyes, smiles at me, then closes them again so I can kiss each lid. Her temples, first the right, then the left. Her cheeks, right, then left. Her lips.
Normally, she lies still, but for the rise and fall of her breasts. This morning, though, she cups my face and holds our lips together. Her tongue probes, and I open them. She keeps her lips soft, her survey slow and deliberate. Her fingers massage my cheekbones and then slip to the corners of my mouth and gently push our lips apart.
