Her ranger? What a ridiculous, impulsive, completely nonsensical notion.
But was it? Calya burrowed deeper into the blanket, thoughts turning over and over in her head. Her ranger. Unanticipated, yes, but could she truly call it illogical? Her past partners had merely been business of another sort—terms and conditions agreeably met, and exclusivity had never been one of them. On the list of things she’d wanted out of those casual arrangements, monogamy hadn’t made the cut. Discretion, adequate skills, no drama, those were the qualities she’d cared about. Absolutely no sentimentality.
Yet, the thought of sharing Lowe made her jaw clench. He was hers. For a time, as she’d said, but for said time, she wanted all of him. Which wasn’t so out of character for her in the end. Possessive and fierce defense of what she staked out as hers, was that not Calya Helm at her core? Only, instead of a business contract, she sought it in a personal agreement.
Even if she never uttered the words aloud, Lowe was her ranger. But was she his, and in what capacity? Calya couldn’t remember the last time she’d contemplated such distinctions, if ever.
There was a soft knock at the door before Lowe let himself back in. He stayed there, back pressed against the wood. Calya looked over her shoulder, a half-smile on her lips.
“Planning to stay there forever?”
“Depends,” he murmured. “What do you want, Calya?”
She let the blanket slip from one shoulder. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“I want to hear you say it.”
Slowly, she stood up. She let the blanket fall to the floor, her eyes never leaving him, one hand settled against her hip. “Come, ranger. Change my mind about all these gentlemanly notions I have of you.”
Lowe bolted the door, then sauntered toward her, setting the clothes he’d brought from her room on the vacant stool. He shed his cloak and the shoulder harness, leaving them where they fell. His shirt came off in one fluid motion, but instead of discarding it, he used it to blot the still-damp ends of her hair.
“How sweet of you,” Calya teased.
She smothered a yelp as he abruptly swept her up and carried her the few steps to his bed. The shirt fell to the ground, but Lowe didn’t seem to notice. Or care. He tossed her onto the bed, freeing his hands to shuck off the rest of his clothes.
When he moved to climb on top of her, Calya sat up, splaying one hand across his naked chest. His muscles twitched beneath her touch, causing a hot streak of pleasure to run through her. It made her pussy clench, anticipation ratcheting up.
“Careful, ranger,” she said, rising onto her knees, her hands moving to rest on top of his shoulders. “My poor ribs, you know.”
She pushed Lowe onto his back, straddling his hips. His hardening cock nudged the cleft of her ass, and a grin spread across her face as she peered down at him.
“That’s better,” she purred. “Can’t have anything pressing too hard on me.”
“Because you’re so delicate,” Lowe said, his hands settling around her waist. “Had this all planned out, didn’t you?”
She shrugged. “I know what I want.” Her hand slid behind her back to grasp his cock. “I do what it takes to get it.”
“Reckless.” His breath caught when she dipped lower to fondle his balls. “Matters of business and the heart, they’re all the same to you.”
“The same?” Calya wrapped her fingers around his shaft again, giving it a slow pump. “I’ll never…”
His hands tensed around her waist.
Calya gazed down into his gray eyes. Took in his solemn expression. Or was it apprehension? His body gone perfectly still, he stared back at her, waiting on her words. There was a heaviness to the silence between them. They’d come to a precipice, only Calya didn’t understand the cause of such gravity.
A strange sense of expectation stirred thoughts and words Calya had always considered forbidden. Never hurt me, she almost said. But no, that wasn’t what she meant. Hurt only happened to those with hearts. With feelings and sentimentality and a belief in attachments. Never break my faith in you. Never let me down.
If only he could promise her that. He probably would, if she asked. Would say the words, make those pledges here in the moment. He’d probably even mean them.
Yet the gesture would be useless. Lowe could say the words and still break every promise in the end. Life hardly cared for intentions. He’d realize the futility in making sentimental vows to a woman who only knew how to love her work.
Best to never give him the chance of finding out. Even if a small, stubborn part of her had awoken and wished for something else. Wished for her to change, even just a little.
“The heart is never first,” she made herself say, renewing her methodical stroking of his cock. “You and I, this is business of the most pleasant type.”
Let their infatuation be like a falling star. Bright and hot. Short. Lasting only long enough for them to form hazy memories that could be recalled with vague fondness. Pleasant, because neither of them would stick around long enough for it to go bad.
“Business,” Lowe echoed back at her.
