Page 62 of Reveal

I’m crazy all right, but now it seems I’m crazy for her.

How’d that fucking happen? When did I become a man who wines and dines without expecting a thing in return?

My phone vibrates on the dresser next to me. A reminder of my court date in two hours and another about my meeting with Stuart at three.

He’d better have something for me. Her stockings at my feet catch my eye, and then the bustier a few feet beyond that. I smile. Her blatant defiance shouldn’t cause that reaction from me, but it does.

She shifts on the bed, and a soft sound of contentment sighs from her lips—the same one she gives when I push into her during sex—as she snuggles back into the comforter.

What if Stuart has dug up information on her that you’re not prepared to hear? What are you going to do with it then?

Is it going to change how you feel about her, Ryk?

How bad would it have to be to make that happen?

Fuck.

I blow out a sigh, and even though I know I need to head into the office, my feet move toward her. To the one person I keep being drawn to over and over despite telling myself that it’s too much work, too much hassle, too much feeling.

I rest my hip on the side of the bed and press a kiss to her temple.

“Please tell me you’re not dressed yet,” she murmurs but doesn’t open her eyes. Instead, she turns toward me and buries her face between the outside of my thigh and the mattress. The heat of her breath warms my slacks. The scent of her shampoo is faint but there. “It’s too early.”

“Mmm.” The drapes are drawn to mute the light, so I get why she thinks that. “Not early, no.”

“What time—”

“Shh.” I cut her off and link my fingers with hers. “I have to get to court.”

“Noooo. Don’t go.”

Goddamn it. The temptation to call the judge and postpone—give some bullshit reason that won’t hold—so that I can slide back into the bed beside her has never been more appealing.

“I have to go.” It pains me to say those four words.

“Aren’t you tired?”

Exhausted. “That’s what espresso’s for. Stay here and get some sleep. Just lock the door on the way out, and don’t drink all my parents’ alcohol so I get in trouble when they get home.”

I can feel her lips spread into a smile against my leg. “Promise. But only if I can keep a Yankees shirt here to sleep in.”

That ridiculously simple statement made in that sleep-drugged rasp of hers just made me way too fucking happy.

Yeah, I definitely need help.

She takes our linked hands and pulls them so she can press a kiss against mine. “Promise?” she prompts.

“Promise.” I run my other hand over her hair. “I left a new toothbrush on the counter for you and one of my shirts for you to wear if you want.”

“Efficient,” she murmurs as her breathing begins to even out again.

“Always.” Another kiss to her cheek. “Thanks for not running away this time.”

“Mmm.”

It’s the only sound she makes as she slips back to sleep. I don’t move, though. Like a fucking sap I sit and watch her. The rise and fall of her chest. The curve of her body beneath the oversize shirt. And for a moment I’m more than tempted to break every ounce of resolve I held on to last night. I’m more than certain that burying myself to the hilt in her right now would trump the high I expect to claim in court later when I walk away with the settlement in my client’s favor.

Get up, Lockhart.