In the bedroom, he tugged back the sheet awkwardly, while keeping her steady against his chest. When he laid her gently on the mattress, Nigel hopped off and burrowed between the pillows.
Vanessa lifted the blanket over her shoulder. Her eyelids were heavy with fatigue, but her gaze still found his. “Where will you be?” she murmured.
His jaw tensed. “Where do you want me to be?” His voice came out gruff, a scrape of gravel over ash.
She yawned, her eyes drifting shut. “Here.”
The single word settled in his heart. He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, fingers lingering a second too long. He should sleep on the couch. Should give her space.
Here.
He lowered himself onto the comforter. The space between them was too much, and yet not enough.
She was safe. Gratitude surged through him as he listened to the soft, steady rhythm of her breath. Whatever higher power had protected her from the worst tonight, it deserved his worship.
He’d lived in the shadows for so long, a devil in disguise, with blood on his hands and regret in his bones.
And everyone knew, devils didn’t worship. But tonight, he might just start.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Vanessa blinked awake as soft daylight filtered into the room, and she quickly remembered where she was.
A familiar, earthy scent curled up her nose, warming her from the inside out. Jordan’s scent. She inhaled deeply and stifled the moan that followed. It smelled so good, like a leather belt wrapped around a pine tree, that she burrowed deeper under the blanket.
Fully ensconced in the delicious smell, everything from last night slowly tumbled back to the surface of her consciousness. The temptation to never come out was strong, so she stayed there until the enticing scent of coffee made her poke her head out from under the covers.
She was in Sean and Ivy’s guest room. Ivy had said that her grandmother stayed here when she visited, so the lace-trimmed curtains and pale-rose wallpaper didn’t surprise her. But the thought of Jordan sleeping in this room that was befit for English royalty was pretty funny.
What did his own place look like? She realized she’d never asked him where he lived when he wasn’t pet sitting Nigel and babysitting her. She knew it was across the river,closer to The Link, but she didn’t know which neighborhood.
At one point, she imagined him living in a dark, uninviting basement that matched his mood. But now that she’d gotten to know this other side of him, she was curious. Where did a man like Jordan Thompson hole up with all his secrets and ghosts? Maybe it wasn’t all skulls and chainsaws.
The scent of bacon joined the coffee, and her stomach growled loudly.
Kicking off the comforter, she swung her legs over the side of the bed. His oversized hoodie swallowed her, falling almost to her knees, but it was so comfortable and smelled so good she didn’t bother searching for anything to replace it with.
Padding to the door, she nudged it open an inch and listened for signs of life.
She could hear the faint sounds of sizzling and the low hum of music. She nudged the door all the way open and wandered down the hall.
Jordan stood at the stove, wearing gray sweats and a t-shirt, looking hotter than anyone had the right to look after the night they had.
The sweats hung low on his waist, his toned ass looking mighty appetizing covered in the soft material. Never mind the riveting bulge on his front side. She could see the faint outline of a very generous-looking package. Was he wearing anything underneath? She was going to guess no.
“Hungry?” he asked, and her gaze jerked back to his face in time to see his smirk unfurl.
Yes, but not for breakfast. Something had shifted between them, and considering everything that had happened in the last twelve hours, clinging to their so-called disdain seemed childish.
She held his gaze, heat rising in her chest. “Starving.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he watched her prop her hip against the counter and smile at him. Good, she affected him as much as he affected her.
“I guess it shouldn’t surprise me that you can cook.” He had all kinds of skills she hadn’t expected.
Turning back to flipping the bacon, he shrugged. “I’m no Michelin chef, but I can make a few basics.” Grabbing a coffeepot, he filled a mug, added milk, and stirred.
He knew how she liked her coffee…her heart melted at that.
