It’s a lie, but I let her have it.
I nod and stand. “Stay off your feet,” I say quietly, and walk into the bathroom.
I take a quick shower. Just long enough to rinse off the sweat clinging to my skin. When I get out, I dry off and change into just my boxer briefs. I know it’s not ideal, but I’m not sleeping in slacks like I’m still on duty. She’ll survive.
When I step back into the room, the lights are off, the TV is silent, and Aro is asleep. Or pretending to be. Hard to tell.
The bed’s not big, but it’s not small either. I slide in on myside, careful not to make the mattress dip too much. I tell myself it’s because I need rest. That I need to be sharp tomorrow. That sleeping in a chair would make me useless if things go south.
Truth is, I just want to be close to her.
“What are you doing?” she whispers from the dark.
“Going to bed. What does it look like?”
“You’re not sleeping in the chair?”
“Why would I do that? The bed’s plenty big enough for the both of us.”
She makes a skeptical noise. “Fine. But stay on your side. If Marcus hears about this, he’ll flip his shit.”
Like I haven’t thought about that. Like it’s not already weighing on me.
I stay silent, and eventually, her breathing starts to slow. The tension leaves her frame, inch by inch, like it’s being siphoned out by the dark.
When I’m sure she’s asleep, I roll over, careful and quiet. Her back is to me. Her dark curls are scattered across the pillow like ink in water. I reach out, unable to help myself, and gently twirl one between my fingers. It’s so soft. I force myself to let it go, even though I don’t want to.
Then, because I’m weak—or maybe because I’m human—I peek under the edge of the covers. She’s back in the lingerie from earlier. No towel. No defenses. I drag in a slow breath and turn back over, facing the wall. Every cell in my body is screaming. I clench my fists beneath the pillow and lock everything down..
Jesus, this woman is going to be the death of me.
Not Marcus.
Not whatever fallout’s coming tomorrow.
Her.
∞∞∞
I wake before she does.
Somehow, at some point during the night, she ended up tangled around me. Her head on my shoulder, arm draped across my chest, one leg hooked over mine. Practically wrapped in a bow.
And we’re onmyside of the bed. That part shouldn’t matter, but it does.
Shecrossed the line. Not me. I didn't touch her first.
I let myself enjoy it for a second. Just a second. Her face is soft in sleep. Somehow younger without all the armor. She’s usually fire and sarcasm and perfectly arched brows. But like this? She’s just... Aro. And Jesus, she’s beautiful. Not just in the obvious ways, but in the ways that sneak up on you. The clever comebacks. The way she reads people like a book. The moments she pretends she’s unaffected, even though I know better.
She’s younger than me. Not by a mile, but enough. I’m thirty-four. I’ve got a past and baggage and more blood on my hands than I can ever wash off.
But I still want her.
I know what I have to do now. The plan clicked into place sometime after 3 a.m. Probably around the time she exhaled in her sleep and pressed even closer. I know what has to happen next. She’s not going to like it. In fact, she might fight me, but she’ll be safe, and that’s all that matters.
She starts to stir, and I feel the exact second she realizes where she is… where I am. She goes stiff, then tries to pull away like I’m made of fire. I tighten my arms around her, gentle, but firm.
“Dammit, Sean. Let me go.”
