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He thought back to mere hours ago, her body entwined with his, dark strands of hair stuck against her sweaty cheek as she lay under him. Then flying around her face when she forced him to his back. The fire in her dark eyes as they’d moved together made his blood run hot. She was a force of nature. He’d always known it. And until that moment, he’d seen himself the same way—both of them raging storms as they came together to fuck.
But something had shifted the balance now. Her quick wit, ruthless ambition, the way she refused to back down from any challenge. She was his equal, spurring him to be better, wanting more.
He had only ever craved her physically, but now longed for her smile, her laugh, the private whispers they’d shared under cover of darkness. He wanted to share the things that made them cry, like she had last night. He wanted to protect her and put her first.
Jesus Christ, put her first?
The realization shook him to his core. Love had no place in the meticulously ordered world he’d built. But he saw now that it was what he’d been doing this whole time at Cavendish, from the moment he’d blackmailed Eli into spying on her.
Feeling this way about her threatened to undermine everything, leaving him uncomfortably exposed. His mind scrambled for an answer before she came out of the bathroom. How could he put this genie back in the bottle, as if nothing had changed for him? As if last night had been just for fun?
He would bury it before she saw it in his eyes, that’s all. The last thing he needed was her scorn that he’d fallen prey to the thing she disdained most.
A shuffling came from the bathroom, and he closed his eyes, slowing his breathing. The sound of the faucet running briefly filled the silence. After a moment, it stopped.
A click and a whisper of feet.
Then, “I know you’re awake, Monty.”
Her voice cut through the gloom, monotone and sarcastic. Good. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes, rubbing a tired hand over his face. He glared at her in manufactured irritation. “Barely,” he said, his voice rough. “Some of us got little sleep.”
Amusement flickered in her eyes. “I didn’t hear you complaining about lost sleep last night.”
His neck tensed at the reminder, but he held her gaze, refusing to take the bait. “Is that all you can think about? Sex? There’s still a killer on the loose, you know.”
The amusement left her expression, replaced with a stony stare. “Don’t worry. I have forgotten nothing—including last night being just a goodbye.”
He swung his legs off the bed, telling himself he was glad her expression had turned cold. His secret would stay his own, and if he told himself it was a goodbye, maybe he’d be able to erase this feeling faster than he’d thought. “Exactly. Now that we’ve put last night into perspective, maybe we can get moving through the rest of the Castle and finish the job,” he said gruffly.
Silence fell between them like a glacial wall. He busied himself with gathering his clothes, acutely aware of her watching his every move. Her stare pricked his skin, and he wondered if she was doing it on purpose, trying to provoke him. He refused to meet her eyes, but deliberately slowed his movements, facing her as he shook out his clothing and examined it for imagined dust.
Finally, she broke the tense quiet. “Jesus Christ, is it that hard to put on pants?”
“Is it that hard not to stare?” he countered.
“I’m not staring; I’m waiting,” she retorted, spinning to look out the window.
He chuckled. “You were impatient last night, too,” he noted, unable to hold the comment in. Sexy sparring would not help matters, not when she could turn on a dime and catch him off balance. It was infuriating and thrilling at the same time.
Luckily, she stayed silent, stiffly staring out the window. The blue light made her face like marble.
He finished dressing, pulling on his coat and tucking his phone into his pocket. The clothes helped him pull his shit together, calming his mind. “Let’s do what we came here for,” he said briskly.
She turned at his voice, searching his face. A crease formed between her brows. He braced himself as he glimpsed something in her expression. A question, maybe? Or a doubt? But it disappeared as she nodded and headed for the door.
He followed her, striding confidently. As long as Hartley remained oblivious, it didn’t matter what he was feeling inside. And once they got through the rest of the Castle and the other two properties on their list, he’d leave. Maybe as soon as tomorrow. Then he’d be on the other side of the world and this feeling for her would fade.
“Red One and Two,” buzzed Claire’s voice from their devices. Echoing in the stone hallway, he could hear the urgency in her voice. “We found something.”
CHAPTER22
Hartley faced Monty in the hallway with a shiver. She almost convinced herself she’d imagined Claire’s voice.
“Let’s go back,” he said, nodding toward the bedroom. “Better reception.”
She followed him back to the disheveled bed she wanted to purge from her mind. Just looking at the twisted sheets reminded her of his hard body on hers, under hers, behind hers—
“Copy,” Monty said into his phone as he sat on the bed. She wandered close but refused to sit. It was stupid, but then wasn’t she, too? To fall under whatever this spell was?
