“Well then, Angel. Let’s go.”
SILAS
Gideon watches from the kitchen doorway while I put my shoes on.
“Text when you get there,” he says. “And when you leave. I want timestamps if Abi pulls anything tonight.”
“If she pulls anything dangerous, you’ll be the first to know,” I answer.
Penelope comes out of her room in that sapphire nightgown that makes my brain misfire. Thin straps, deep V, skirt that hits mid-thigh. Her blonde hair tumbles around her shoulders like she already rolled around in my sheets, and those brown eyes lock on me, wide and shining. Her throat is bare, her hands trembling as she smooths the fabric over her hips.
Gideon’s gaze softens. “Minxy’s still out,” he tells her. “Talon’s in there on the floor like a loyal dog. I’ll take first watch. You two go.”
She bites her lip. “You’re sure?”
“Little Menace,” he says. “I promise. We’ve got her.”
She looks toward the guest room once, then nods. “Okay.”
I hold the door open. She steps out, and the night air lifts a few strands of her hair. Her scent hits me, a mix of citrus shampoo and nerves.
“Talon knows where we’re going?” she asks as we head to the truck.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “He told us to go. Swore he’d text if anything changed.”
“Good.”
I unlock the truck and help her in, my hand on the back of her thigh as she climbs. Her skin is warm under my palm. My brain notes every detail and files it away undermine.
We pull away from the curb. Campus lights blur past. The farther we get from her place, the more her shoulders start to loosen.
“Ground rules,” I say.
She huffs. “Of course you have ground rules.”
“Rule one,” I continue, unbothered. “You tell me if anything is too much. One word. Red. We stop. No questions.”
“Red,” she echoes, testing it.
“Rule two. No talking about Abi while I’ve got you in a place that is supposed to be fun. She does not get to live rent-free in this part of your head.”
Something in her expression eases. “I can agree to that.”
“Rule three,” I say. “You’re mine tonight. No flirting with anyone else. You want something, you ask me for it.”
Her thighs press together. “I wasn’t planning to flirt,” she says, voice a little hoarse. “But noted.”
I tap the steering wheel. “Rule four. If you need to stop and just breathe, you say so. Velvet is good at giving people a way out, but I don’t want you white-knuckling anything for my sake.”
She watches me, turning all that sharp Penelope focus on my face. “And your rules?”
“My rules?”
“For yourself,” she says. “You’re allowed to have those too.”
I flick my eyes from the road to her mouth and back. “My rules are simple. I don’t touch you unless you want it. I protect you. I bring you home in one piece.”
“That last one feels non-negotiable,” she mutters.
