I turn, and the little dragon is gone. The mushrooms too.
32
RAINE
After the quickest shower ever, I’m dressed in a cute tunic dress, a light tank beneath it, and leggings. Something told me that Kieren would be waiting for me when I came out of the bathroom. Though I didn’t figure that he would be asleep. I pictured him working on his phone or scribbling in his notebook.
Inching closer to him, he’s sound asleep. Like the kind of sleep Chanda would have after a week of trips from Amsterdam to Nairobi. And like Wren, who always mothers the girls when she’s home, I take the soft chenille throw from the sofa and slowly lower it over him, starting with his toes and making my way up to his shoulders. A soft smile curves his lips, and he rolls onto his side, taking the blanket with him.
I guess we’re not going to town. At least, not right now.
I hit the button on the remote, and the early morning vanishes. I’d put on going-to-town clothes, but if I’m justhanging out... Back in the dressing area, I put on my leggings with my Chesterfield University sweatshirt pulled over a T-shirt.
I’m weird in that I can’t sleep without reading first. It doesn’t matter what it is—textbook, self-help book, romance, or the new bestseller thriller. I have to read a few pages. Even now.
Last night, I was so focused on the art, mostly to keep my brain from thinking of the three handsome, hulking men in this castle. And why I’m really here. My mantra? Why or how I got here isn’t important. What I can do with the opportunity I have is what matters. Six months is forever, but it’s also nothing. I have to get as much done as I can, learn as much as I can on my own. Cram as much as I can into my brain and be mindful of every second I use.
In the nightstand drawer, I find it. I give a moment of thanks to my sister and her wisdom of bringing my electric boyfriend in a case that makes it look like a curling iron. I look from it to Kieren. Asleep, he’s a lot less intimidating and a lot less of the workaholic asshole. E-reader in hand, I leave the vibrator in place and close the drawer.
The sofa on the other side of the room is beautiful, but it’s not meant for sleeping or sitting on for a long time. The bed’s huge. It’s a good-quality bed too. Of course it is... There’s no reason to go make myself uncomfortable on the sofa. Not when I can just stick to the side of the bed and keep to myself.
I’m tall, but I still need a boost. I move the step stool from the side of the bed Kieren’s on and around to the other side. It’s hard, because the blackout shades are like the depths-of-a-cave quality. Around the other side, I lift the blanket and crawl in, staying as close to the edge as possible.
I read the same sentence three times. The book is fantastic,but I can’t focus on it. The paintings from last night flash through my head. Most of the artists I know, but it’s the ones I don’t that stay with me. Like the one above my desk. I think the signature is T Fischer, but I can’t quite read it. It starts with a T, and then I can’t make out anything clearly. I’ll figure it out. I’ve got a microscope and other equipment in a cart.
Once I clear some of the art into the cabinets, I can make a better workspace for the conservation equipment I want to order. Leopold said I should order anything I need, and when some of the paintings just haphazardly in the corner are worth high six figures... and the ones worth seven figures were out in the light where they could be damaged... I’m doing it for the art.
While moving things for the cabinet, I found a painting that must be of one of Kieren’s ancestors—same rugged jawline. He’s wearing a woolen blue jacket and staring up like he’s searching for answers in the clouds. So serious. Both Kieren and the painting. It flashes through my brain, interrupting my list, which was interrupting my reading. I shake it off. No thinking about his blue eyes and broad shoulders.
First thing tomorrow I’m ordering all of the conservation supplies. If it’s for the paintings, I’m going to get it.
Kieren moves. It’s no use. I can’t focus on my book or thinking about the art. Instead, my eyes skim over the dark shadow on the other side of the bed. I can just make out his profile. How the heck are they all so handsome but in different ways?
He smells like pine and cedar mixed together, like a cool breeze on a fall hike. I can’t help but lean toward him and huff him.
I give the blankets a light tug. I clench my legs together. Ineed to stop thinking about them in any way but professionally. It’s a little hard when one of them is five feet away on my bed. My twisted brain pops an image of my vibrator in the drawer. Of me getting it out and using it while Kieren sleeps next to me. That’s too much. I can’t do that, can I?
I put the e-reader down and close my eyes. Even in the thin inky darkness, they pop open, and I ease my hand into my underwear. I can do it without him waking. It’s that or just combust.
I don’t know why I find guys like him interesting. They’re not interested in anything but their work or, in his case, money. He’s working all the time. But watching him sleep makes me think that everyone has a soft side. There’s a little boy inside of him.
There’s also a terrifying blue dragon.
My heart speeds up, and I rip my hand from my underwear and push it under the pillow.
I’m warm, in a good way. I’ve always been a snuggler. There’s an arm wrapped around my waist, a firm cock pushing at my ass.
My eyes snap open. Shit. Kieren. I try to inch forward, out from under the arm. It’s dark. The darn blinds work so well. There’s breath on my neck.
“Not that way.” The arm grasps me and flips me on top of him. He holds me to his chest. Holy Batman. I want to grind up against what’s under my thin leggings. I can’t help it. I rock my hips. There’s a rumble of a chuckle from under me.
“Kieren?” I say, though I know it’s not.
“No, Duchess. Your human nose isn’t that useful, is it?” He lifts his hips and grinds me against him. My useless eyes fly shut, rolling to the back of my head. And I swear I’m drooling at the one swooping motion he made.
“Roark?” I’m confused.
33
