I hummed, not sure what my answer really was.
Maybe he didn’t either. But when I turned onto my side hours later, I found the bed next to me was warm, and a lump in the distinct shape of a man I once tried to kill lay beside me.
I slept better than I had in years.
Chapter 12
Henley
Ihadn’t meant to fall asleep. Nor had I any intention of getting into bed beside Grace last night. But when her drowsy voice had mumbled into her pillow, asking if I was staying, I couldn’t resist the pull.
She was injured, tired, and too vulnerable—even for my taste.
While I refused to admit that a small part of me might feel somewhat protective of her for other than selfish reasons, I could allow myself to acknowledge the fact that I no longer wanted to see her dead at the end of this.
The longer I stared at the ceiling, listening to her deep, heavy breathing as she slept, the more it hit me that I never truly wanted to kill her. Sure, any guy would be pissed learning that someone was trying to kill them, so my threat was necessary. But the more time I spent around her, the more I couldn’t bear the thought of her heart no longer beating.
I glanced at the antique wooden clock on her nightstand, barely able to see the time through the long vines ofher plants and the stack of books. Inching a leaf out of the way, I read the time. Six in the morning.
Both our phones had been blowing up all night, mine twice as much with her texts still coming through there as well. The girls were asking for updates, while Austin and Booker sent me mild threats wanting to know what had happened and why they had to clean up after my mess, and demanding I tell them what I’d meant before leaving the ranch yesterday.
Sometime through the night, I’d turned both our devices off. Grace needed sleep, and I didn’t have the patience to deal with any of them.
I rolled onto my side, studying Grace’s features. Her black hair was frizzy from sleep, her lips parted and slightly chapped. My hand moved of its own accord, the pad of my thumb rubbing a gentle line along her chin. Seeing her blood painting her mouth yesterday had made me nearly insane with need. My cock had never swelled so hard, desperate for release. Thank fuck she’d seemed to crave me just as bad.
I pulled the comforter down her arm enough to expose the wound. It wasn’t red or swollen, indicating no infection had set in. After tucking the blanket back up to her shoulder, I stood from the bed, taking in her room with the dim morning light.
She had bookshelves lining nearly every wall, and where there wasn’t one, the wall was instead covered with gold antique frames of flowers or cross-stitched skulls. I ran my finger along one of the shelves, reading the titles as I went. From what I could gather, she had a large collection of what seemed to be romance books.
Interesting.
After rounding the room, I came up on the nightstand closest to her side of the bed. With a finger hooked around the gold handle, I slid the drawer open.
My heart beat in my goddamn dick.
The drawer contained a neat array of sex toys—some long, others thick, a few smaller ones that I could imagine using in various places on her body. And…a Kindle?
I picked up the reading device, turning it over in my hand. The case was clear with a phone grip on the back. But instead of the typical round style, it was distinctly the shape of a bullet vibrator. Intrigued, I pulled on it, only for it to pop off easily. Upon inspection, I found it attached to its base like a magnet.
She has a vibrator attached to her Kindle.
“What’re you doing?”
With the Kindle still in my hand, I looked over at her. Her head hovered inches over the pillow, her hair mussed on the side she’d been sleeping on as she stared at me over her shoulder.
“Snooping,” I stated. No point hiding the obvious.
“That’s my…” She trailed off, looking for the right words.
“Toy drawer?” I mused, a small smirk cresting my lips.
Her eyes narrowed, and she moved to shove up to a sitting position. She hissed in a breath as she did, the movement likely tugging her stitches. She was so focused on the pain that she didn’t notice the blanket slide down her chest to pool in her lap, exposing her tiny, perky breasts.
My mouth watered.
I forcefully redirected my gaze to the device in myhands. She seemed to notice what I’d glanced at, because in my periphery, I saw her quickly shove the blanket up her chest and hold it there with a fist.
“Put that back,” she demanded.
