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“Melody,” he repeated, and the way it rolled off his tongue was even better than I had imagined. “Beautiful,” he added.
“It doesn’t really suit me, but it is what it is.”
“It suits you,” he corrected, shaking his head, letting me pull away slightly, thinking this was the perfect time for a little physical distance since things felt emotionally rather close.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I told him, clearing my throat a little awkwardly, not wanting my voice to keep sounding so, well, husky.
“Done what? Comforted you?” he asked.
“No, well, yes, but no. You shouldn’t have killed him,” I clarified, moving to sit up, crossing my legs, feeling my hair fall to curtain around my face. “You should have held him for questioning. By whatever means necessary. You know that,” I added.
“He touched you. He had to die.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s not ridiculous,” he shot back, sitting up against the headboard.
In case you are wondering, yes, yes, I did watch the way his abdominal muscles contracted with the motion. Because things weren’t problematic enough between the two of us, I had to go and reignite my body’s natural response to his very well-toned body.
“Yes, it is. So he was likely here to kill me, got a little grab-assy; you still would have gotten a little useful information out of him if you kept him alive.”
“He did what?” he asked, making me realize the little tidbit he hadn’t been privy to slipped out of my lips, turning his eyes into small fires.
“Nothing. It was nothing. He was probably aiming for my arm or something.”
“And he got your ass?” he asked, looking thoroughly confused.
“He grabbed my boob. Really, it’s nothing. Relax,” I demanded when his body got tight again. “It’s not like you can bring him back to life to kill him again, more slowly,” I told him, shaking my head. “I mean, I get it. He was one of your men. He betrayed you. That sucks. But he would have been a valuable asset to question, you know? We don’t even know how long he was working for Chernev.”
To that, I got a sigh. Of the long-suffering sort.
“What?” I asked when he climbed out of the bed, irritated, but I couldn’t figure out why.
“Nothing. Stay in here. I have to handle some things. Alexander will be outside your door with Laird if you need anything,” he added, going into his closet, grabbing a white button-up, throwing it on, but leaving it unbuttoned for the time being as he made his way to the door.
“Christopher,” I called, bringing him to a stop, turning to look back at me.
“Yes?”
“Thank you,” I told him.
He gave me a tight nod before disappearing into the hall.
It was a few minutes later when there was a tentative tapping, making me jump. “Yeah?”
“Want something to eat?” Alexander asked, looking exhausted.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Coffee then? It’s going to be a long day from the sound of things.”
“If someone makes some, bring me a cup. But don’t have anyone make me any.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it, Alexander,” I told him, trying for a stern voice, getting a little smirk from him.
“I heard you,” he told me, shutting the door.
Alone again, I made my way to the bathroom, finding warm, sandy tones, a walk-in big enough for ten with three separate shower heads, and a soaking tub that looked like a menage could happen in it comfortably.
I had a sudden urge to climb in it, but chose against it. In case someone needed me out in the main area or something.
Instead, I washed my face and neck, wiping away the feel of Niko’s clammy palms.
I didn’t realize I had been standing there staring at my reflection, zoned out, until I heard a clink in front of me, making me jolt, gaze finding Christopher’s in the mirror.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, watching him look at my reflection.
“I brought you a frappe. With chocolate,” he added.
“I told Alexander only to get me coffee if someone had already made it.”
“Alexander didn’t get it. I did,” he told me, shrugging.
“Thank you,” I said, grabbing it, turning, finding him a lot closer than I anticipated. “What is going on out there?”
“We’re making plans.”
“What kind of plans?”
“The kind to keep you—and Alexander—safe,” he told me, turning, walking away, leaving me before I could ask any other questions.
What went on for the next several hours was anyone’s guess. I could hear the low timbre of voices, some shuffling, cell phones ringing. But none of it was close enough to make anything out.
Eventually, I found myself back in the bed, curling into the sheets that smelled so much like Christopher, finding myself fantasizing not of him sexing me up in these ridiculously soft sheets, but simply curling me up, holding me close.
It had me asleep in minutes.
The next time I was conscious of anything, there was a tickling sensation down the side of my cheek, making me pull up my shoulder to brush it away, but trapping a finger there instead.
