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I feel sick and exhausted and battered and torn.
And a little bit relieved.
The end is finally in sight.
* * *
The security guys find no sign or trace of Montaigne.
Not for a moment do I believe I imagined his presence. He was there for sure. He left after we did, but he’ll be back. Now that he knows where I am and what I’m doing, he’ll try to start back up his stalking campaign.
Or do worse.
William asks for my permission to assign me a bodyguard for close protection. I don’t care if it means someone will be at my heels for the foreseeable future. I agree without the slightest hesitation. I’d rather be safe and a little bit stifled than to be dead or kidnapped.
And I actually have hope now that Montaigne will be caught. Stopped. He’s no longer up against a defenseless woman without connections. He’s up against William Worthing and his high-paid security team.
Surely something will finally happen.
I’m exhausted after my panic and the emotional effort it’s taken to admit this much of the truth to William, so I end up falling asleep on the couch.
I wake up with my head in William’s lap. He’s working on his phone and stroking my hair gently. It feels so good. So intimate.
Like I’m being taken care of.
“Hey,” I mumble, shifting my position so I can see up at his face.
“Hey.” He smiles down at me, looking rather tired himself.
“You should have taken a nap too.”
“Too wired for that.”
“Are you?” I find the energy to sit up, folding my legs beneath me. “Are you okay? Are you upset by all this?”
“Not upset.”
I pause, waiting for him to clarify.
He gives a dry, breathy laugh. “I’m having to fight down all these intense protective instincts that I never knew I possessed but have all somehow leaped into urgency. Like I’m ready to fight the world off to keep you safe.”
I choke on a little sob and lean over to give him a hug. I have no idea what I can say to that—anything that will meet how much the words meant to me—so I squeeze him instead.
He tightens his arms around me too. Mumbles, “I keep telling myself I’ve done everything I can do so I need to calm the hell down. But I can’t. I won’t. It’s frankly kind of embarrassing. I swear I could get into a damned fistfight right now.”
I giggle into his shoulder and then pull back enough to kiss him softly. “Thank you.”
“For what? For feeling like a fucking caveman for no rational reason?”
“There is reason. And you’ll never know how much it means that you want to protect me. I’ve… I’ve never had anyone do that for me before.”
He shakes his head and cups my face. “Well, you do now.”
I still don’t have words to shape what I’m feeling right now. So instead, I kiss him again. This time he grabs the back of my head and holds on, deepening the kiss until my head spins.
Clutching at his shoulders, I get pushed backward with the intensity of the kiss until I’m lying on the couch with him on top of me. My legs are bent, folded up on each side of his hips, and his tongue is deep in my mouth, thrusting with a rhythm that matches the primal rocking of his hips.
It takes only a couple of minutes for him to get hard. I feel the bulge growing against my middle. His arousal fuels my own. I started the kiss overwhelmed with emotion, but gradually my physical need intensifies to match the emotional. My hands fumble with his shirt and his hair, trying desperately to pull him closer and to pull off his clothes at the same time.
