“Not just, no.”
I’m certain he means yes. “But it’s the box you want?”
He sets down his fork, plate already clean. “You already asked me; I already answered.”
Crap. “It’s not like you said much,” I mutter. “‘Options’?”
“Leverage.”
I stare at him. “OnKurt?”
“Trust that I have your interests front-of-mind,” he says, like he genuinely expects me to trust him after all that’s happened.
“Okay…” I can’t push again. And as for trust? That went out the window the same moment his needle went into my arm.
He nods to my plate. “Was that enough?”
For now, yes. “To be honest, I’m just ready for bed.”
He gives me a gentle smile. Endearing, if he wasn’t such a lying psycho. “Then let’s go.”
We walk back up, his hand playfully cupping my ass beneath the shirt.
“I’m so ready to snuggle with you,” I tell him. Playing hard on the role of willingness that he puts so much stock in. Hoping against hope that he won’t tie me up. Or even sleep between me and the door.
The bedroom is small, but functional. My side, as it turns out, is closest to freedom, and I slip beneath the duvet, still in his T-shirt. He watches me, heat in his eyes.
Surely he can’t be expecting anything else tonight?
Will he take no for an answer?
I’m so goddamn sore. Every muscle. My pussy too. In a good way… mostly.
How can he still look at me like that? Hasn’t he had enough?
“I just want to sleep,” I murmur, cutting that off early. I hope. “Hold me?”Not too tight.
“I will.” He unbuttons his jeans, and the noise pulls at me. Like I’ve developed a Pavlovian reaction after only one day. Evening. Night. Whatever.
Declan pads around to the other side of the bed, and it shifts as he gets in. He flicks the light off, then his arm slips around my waist, pulling me back against him.
The bath didn’t relax me, and I’m not tired. Or I am, but it’s muscular, not general fatigue. I guess spending a day out of it works, even if it was drugged sleep.
I still have to focus hard not to fall asleep. Especially when I’m faking it for his benefit. His hand cups my breast through his shirt, his hips press into my ass, and his breathing becomes regular.
And I lie there for another hour, or as best I can judge another hour. Counting minutes. Making plans. Trying to figure out who thehellDeclan Hale is.
Where he might’ve put Kurt’s black box.
When I’m certain he’s deeply asleep, I shift. Inch by inch. Slowly. Pausing now and then. Letting him get used to me being farther away.
Hoping and praying he doesn’t wake up.
Finally sliding out from under his arm, and lowering it carefully back onto the bed.
Then I slip away, tiptoe to the door, and let myself out.
Simple, so far. If he wakes now, I’ll just tell him I was going to the bathroom. That’ll be a lot harder to sell when I have my bike leathers on.
