She remembered how the tip of her finger had traced circles over those muscles. Around and around. Teasing him.Tantalizing, he’d called her touch. A touch that became downright wicked by the end of the night.
He blinked once at her before stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him.
“What are you doing here?” His voice was gruffer than usual.
She tilted her head to look at him beneath hooded eyes. Rolling her shoulder so the edge of her cloak slid off, she said, “You know exactly what I’m doing here, Mikaud.”
His heated gaze was enough to chase away the chills skating up and down her back. But the second she stepped forward, he looked away.
“I can’t tonight,” he said. “I’m on duty.”
Not one to be put off so quickly, she took another step forward. “They’ll wait.”
He shook his head. “I only came back for my belt.”
He turned his gaze and she followed. Sure enough, a black belt sat atop the skinny four-drawer dresser to her left.
She snatched it before he could. “Stay,” she implored. “You know I’ll make it worth your while.”
He met her eyes, a smirk toying with the crease between his lips. “I have no doubt you would. But not right now.”
His decision was firm. She could hear it in his tone. No amount of sultry words or moves on her part would sway him. It seemed everything tonight had slipped beyond her control. First Phineas, and now Mikaud.
She held tight to the belt, the leather sticking to her palms.
“Later, then?”
A hint of surprise softened his growing smirk. “You’ll wait?”
She slid closer, forcing herself to look up his broad frame. “Only if you promise to make it worthmywhile.”
He grinned then, full and wide. “Happily,” he swore.
She grinned back. Still holding his belt tight, she asked, “Anything for me?”
He slid a hand in the pocket of his coat and pulled out a folded piece of paper. She reached for it, but he held it high over his head.
“My belt, if you would be so kind.”
She held out the belt. He lowered his arm. They swapped leather and paper at the same time.
Relief swept through her at the sight of her father’s familiar handwriting. She folded the page back over her father’s words and watched as Mikaud slid his belt through the loops on his pants.
He had been willing to pass notes between her and her father for a year now. She had to believe she could coerce him into giving up the location of her father’s cell. She didn’t have another way.
With his belt latched and secure at his waist, Mikaud looked back at her. She smiled innocently at him.
“I’ll be here when you return,” she said.
He leaned down for a kiss, his hazel eyes searching her face for the usual iciness she displayed at such intimacy. He wanted more between them. And she’d always shut him down, reminding herself thatshe could keep no lovers, no friends. No attachments to Gadore. But she couldn’t afford to keep him at arm’s length anymore.
She swallowed back her reservations and met his lips halfway. She kept the kiss brief—he couldn’t grow suspicious of her sudden change of heart. When she pulled back, he did too, straightening to his full height.
“I’ll see you soon,” he whispered. There was a new gentleness in his voice, and it made a soft chime of guilt sound in her heart. She shoved it away with a heavy sigh.
“Get out of here.”
She turned her back to him, opening the letter from her father again and settling onto the edge of Mikaud’s bed. Keeping her eyes trained on the page, she listened as the door opened and shut, Mikaud’s footsteps retreating down the hall.
