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He glanced down at my parted pajamas. “It’s late. You should be asleep.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t?” He eased my foot to the floor, then reached up and untangled my hands until they dropped free.
I shook my head, unable to tell him about how empty and cold my bed was.
“Do you want to sleep on the sofa while I work?”
I weighed the options, a kink in my neck opposed to a night spent tossing and turning. “Yes, thank you.”
He fixed his trousers and reached into his pocket to tug my panties free. “But you don’t get these back.”
A hint of a smile tugged the corner of my lips. “Fine.”
One brow rose. “Fine.”
He grabbed his vest from the floor and secured it on the rack, then held out his hand. “Come on. Let me get you settled.”
I took his hand and followed him to the study. He flicked on the light, dulling the glow as I sat on the sofa, watching him. The rush of gas hissed before the fireplace came alight.
“This will soothe you,” he murmured.
“You will soothe me.”
He turned, giving me a sad smile. “Only you would say that.”
I tried to stifle a yawn and pulled my bare feet underneath me as he reached behind the sofa and pulled up a cushion and a large, soft throw. “Head down.” He gave a nod.
I complied, knowing it was useless to fight him, even if I’d wanted to. And I didn’t want to. The soft gray cashmere settled over me as I eased my head onto the cushion and closed my eyes. Footsteps sounded as London moved around the room and finally settled in his chair, the creak of leather drawing my focus.
But it didn’t linger long. The soft crackle of the fire and the shuffling of pages lulled me. London’s dangerous tone came sometime later.
“I don’t care what you have to pay, I want Hale found…”
I sank lower, safe knowing that if anyone would find Colt, I’d be London. He’d raze the city to the ground to do it as well. Just like he’d do that for me. Because we belong to him.
I drifted into the darkness, surrendering myself to that bleak emptiness…where there was no Colt.
A clink woke me later. I cracked open my eyes, feeling him beside me.
“Sorry,” London murmured next to me. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Through my slitted eyes, I found him sitting on the other end of the sofa with a glass of Scotch in his hand. He looked from me to the fire, torment sparkling in his stare. One he kept from me as he glanced at the flames flickering in the fire.
I shifted against him, letting him pull my feet over his lap. His hand ran up my legs, his fingers splayed over my thighs. “I’ve done things tonight…things I’m not proud of. But they were necessary. You understand that?”
I didn’t know if he was talking or confessing. Either way, I nodded. “Yes.”
His big hands slid down the backs of my thighs, still kneading, as though the movement eased him.
“I blame myself,” he murmured. The brush of his thumb grazed my skin. “There were opportunities to take out the major players.” His warm hand slid over the curve of my ass, then brushed my slit.
He moved, brushing his chest against my curled knees on his lap. The soft cashmere blanket shifted with a gentle tug and cold air moved over my body. Fingers sank through soft lips, making me catch my breath.
“I would’ve killed them if I’d known. You have to believe me.” He pushed his thumb along my slit. “You do believe me, don’t you?”
The question pulled me away from the sensations of his fingers. “Yes.” I managed. “Yes, I believe you.”
