She shook with her release, pushing him into his own. He hammered hard several times and then ground against her, shuddering with a release so strong he could barely breathe.
Coming down, he loosened his hold. God, he hadn’t bruised her more, had he?
She exhaled, and her body went limp beneath his. Her eyelids remained closed and a contented smile curved her lips. “’Night.”
He chuckled against her and then groaned as his dick jumped inside her. “We should probably go to the bed.”
“Nope,” she mumbled sleepily. “Fine here. ’Night.”
He rolled off her and scooted to his knees before standing, his legs steady. Then he leaned down and lifted her against him.
She cuddled right into his chest, her breathing evening out.
He stared down at her peaceful face. The woman was actually asleep? Huh. He carried her easily to the door to make sure it was locked before walking toward a doorway by the sofa that probably led to a bedroom. Roscoe had turned around and put his face into the back of the sofa, hiding his eyes.
Angus rolled his. “You’re a prude,” he whispered.
The dog gave one of his fake snores.
Angus chuckled and carried the sleeping woman into a bedroom decorated in light gray with a hint of lavender. Peaceful and controlled, just like Nari. He set her beneath the covers in the ultraorganized room and made use of the attached bathroom before returning to the bed.
A thought occurred to him, and he returned to the living room to dig through her purse for her gun. It wasn’t there. Shit. HDD had probably confiscated hers along with his after they’d both shot at the attacker the night before. He didn’t want to awaken her to see if she had another weapon. She probably didn’t.
He needed to get to his storage unit the next day to arm himself again. Finally giving in to the need for rest, he climbed into bed beside her.
She mumbled and rolled against his good side, pressing her nose to his chest. His heart took the hit and then kept pumping. “You’re too much,” he whispered, sliding an arm beneath her head so she could get more comfortable against him. “This can’t happen for good,” he said, knowing he was only talking to himself. Yeah, he liked her. A lot. Then she slid a hand over his stomach, still sleeping, and threw a leg over his knees, as if to keep him close.
He sighed and let himself sink into sleep. Maybe they could have one good night without anybody being shot, blown up, or murdered.
But he doubted it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Nari sat at her kitchen table finishing off surprisingly good scrambled eggs after having showered and thrown on jeans and a light sweater for the day. Roscoe was flopped across her feet, begging with big brown eyes for another piece of bacon. The TV droned in the background, turned to the news so they could learn whether another body had been found. If not, this was the first morning the killer hadn’t left one. She focused on her nearly clean plate. “You can cook. Really cook.”
Angus shrugged, standing to put his dish in the sink. “Yeah. I guess. My sister taught me. She was amazing.”
Nari sipped her coffee. Should she ignore the opening and keep the morning peaceful? “You don’t talk about her. What was she like?” Nope. Curiosity was her bane, as usual.
Angus poured himself another cup and leaned back against the counter, looking delicious with just his jeans on. That bare chest should be admired daily. “She was sweet and smart. It was just the two of us for so long after our folks died. When she was gone the world just got dimmer.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”
Nari took another drink, kind of missing the whipped cream Wolfe always insisted on adding to any caffeinated beverage. “She looked like you. From what I saw of the picture you had.” The picture that had now been burned. “I hope you have more photos.”
“I usually just use that one for the murder board,” he said absently.
She sat up. “You don’t have any other pictures of the two of you? Of good times?”
“Somewhere in a box.” He downed the entire cup, not meeting her eyes.
She shook her head. “Angus, you have to let go of the anger and try to live again.”
“Don’t shrink me.” He rinsed the cup, seeming miles away.
“Wouldn’t ever want to shrink you,” she retorted, getting the grin from him she’d hoped to see. Okay. Fair enough. She wasn’t his girlfriend or his shrink, so she didn’t have the right to get into his head.
He pulled out her spice drawer. “You should probably work on yourself instead of me.”
“What?” She stood and carried her dish to the sink.
