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Frowning, I sat down in my big loveseat and jolted as the room seemed to lurch. At the same time, I noticed Artie all but fall onto the couch, shaking his head and blinking as though he was having trouble focusing. Pasquale was on the other end of the couch, his head drooping forward while my other guys were fighting yawns as they sat down.
What the fuck is going on?I tried to make myself get up, but it was as though my body was suddenly pinned under layers of sand. My eyes kept closing for longer periods.
A rattle cut through the air, and I forced my eyes open.
With enormous effort, I looked over and saw that Heavy had passed out, his big hand open and the bottle of aspirin rolling across the floor before coming to a stop by my foot.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get myself to sit up and reach for it.
Don’t give in, you bastard, some part of me screamed.Don’t you dare.
Shadows licked up at me, causing my vision to narrow and grow dim. My eyes shut. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop myself from falling into darkness.
No, please, no.
Panic and pain burst around my heart, giving me a final second of consciousness and I saw the impish smirk from my blonde as she gazed up to me from under her lashes.
Lia.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Lia
Earlier, I hadn’t been able to appreciate Ty’s master bedroom.
Now, I couldn’t get over it.
It was obvious that he had gutted the entire room at some point, probably tearing down walls to make it bigger and renovating the layout. It had a different feel than the other rooms — airier, with more modern fixtures. Even the windows were different.
One of the walls was made of the same stone as the outside of the house, with a fireplace in the middle and plush couches and chairs arranged around it. Deep shelves with glass doors made up the opposite wall, while the wall around them was painted a dark, deep navy that made me think of the night sky right at the end of dusk. Black and white photographs in minimalist gold frames hung in threes between the shelves. The other walls hadbeen left a pale gray, but it worked, especially since the exposed wood around the room had been stained the same color.
The entire room spoke to incredible taste. Ty had an eye for playing colors off each other in a subtle way, creating a sense of cohesion in a room that would otherwise look cobbled together, especially with the stone and the wood.
But he’d made it work and my favorite part was the collection of wood beams that crisscrossed the ceiling, then met at an angle over the massive window that I stood by now.
I'd pulled back the shades out of curiosity and then started in amazement. Snuggled into Ty's hoodie, I stared out into the wilderness of the night. Trees rustled and whipped in the rain and wind, but every once in a while, the moon made a darting appearance through the clouds.
If I were to paint this scene, I’d use purples and deep blues, along with somber gray and muted green, maybe with a hint of gold and silver in the sky. My fingers tingled for a brush and I turned away, ambling towards the bed and wondering if I’d work up the nerve to ask Ty to help me retrieve my stuff tomorrow.
I climbed into Ty’s big bed, gazing at the four thick, twisted metal bedposts and the intricate headboard that was somehow dominating and inviting at the same time.
But maybe it was only the rumpled sheets and mussed pillows that made the place feel more welcoming.
When I'd woken up earlier, I hadn't wanted to get out of bed — not with Ty breathing deep and easy next to me, his arm still clamped around my waist. But he'd been so tired that he hadn't even stirred when I did finally slip out.
I'd wanted to see if I could track down a pen and maybe a notebook because, for the first time in months, I'd woken up seized with the desire to paint and draw. Since my mother died, even though I'd dutifully kept up with practicing and working at my craft, it hadn't been the same. It would take hours before I could sink into concentration or feel a brief spark of that old creative impulse.
Now, it roared through me. I had ideas of sketching and painting Ty, maybe some of his men like Artie and Pasquale, and even the house and garden.
But after I’d gotten dressed and tiptoed downstairs, searching the office for pen and paper, I’d gotten distracted by Ty’s impressive collection of art books. Snagging one on sculpting, I’d taken it to the kitchen since I was starving and wanted a snack.
Now, a laugh escaped me as I climbed into bed, and I pictured Ty’s beautiful, naked body suddenly appearing in the kitchen doorway, the hard edges and lines of his strong arms and legs and his stern expression as he took me in.
Hell yeah, I wanted to sketch that too.
Lying back on the pillows, I played with the edge of the blanket and my smile slipped away. Ty so rarely laughed. But I thoughtmaybe my idea of sketching him naked in the kitchen doorway might coax a scoff out of him.
My eyes fluttered shut and I rolled over, wondering whether I would feel the bed sink in as Ty climbed in with me – whether he’d pull me against him and kiss me goodnight. I fell into daydreams of what had happened and what I hoped would happen, then right as I was about to fall asleep, I heard his voice in my ear.
