Page 42 of Dark Soul

But he shouldn’t have gotten naked with her. Regardless of the attraction between them.

He lay still for almost an hour, watching the sky get darker and darker. He knew he should wake her up. He had no idea what time she needed to be back at Kvyat’s place by. But the thought of her living in the same house as that monster sat like a hard rock inside his stomach, so he delayed.

Eventually, he heard the front door opening downstairs. There were voices, which changed in tone immediately.

They must have seen Alexia’s coat and boots.

Alexia stirred in his arms.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” he said softly, angling his lower body away from her so she wouldn’t feel how hard he was for her. “I’m sorry to wake you, but you said you had to go.”

“What time is it?” she slurred, still half asleep.

“Nine p.m.”

That seemed to wake her up in one go.

“Shit. I need to get going.”

“What’s the rush?”

“Security changes at ten p.m. I need to be in before then.”

“Security?” he asked, pretending not to know.

“Nikolai’s father is … rich,” she said. “He has a round-the-clock security team.”

“Okay. Let me drive you home.”

She held the duvet against her chest like a dress, highlighting her slim, elegant shoulders. “Could you pass me my clothes?”

Dark got up. He was still naked, but naked had never bothered him. He could feel her eyes on him as he walked around the room, picking up various objects of clothing.

“You enjoying the view?”

“I am,” she said. “I’ve enjoyed a lot of things tonight. I don’t usually …”

“I don’t usually either,” he said, finishing her thought.

He picked up those dainty black panties and went back to the bed. “Allow me,” he said. “I helped you take them off. I should help you get them back on.”

Her laugh was light and musical as she took the panties from him. “I won’t be going anywhere if you start touching me again.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to go anywhere.” The truth in that statement took him aback. He wanted to keep Alexia here with him—where she was safe and close.

But he couldn’t do that. He’d built a wall of lies between them, high enough that there was no getting around it.

He pulled on his boxer shorts and pants, then put the wrinkled henley back on.

She was almost dressed now, except for her feet, which were still bare. She began pulling on her socks. They were thin—thinner than he would have expected her to wear, and he wondered why she didn’t have better socks.

Suddenly, she cocked her head sideways. “What’s that noise—“

“My friends got back a few minutes ago.”

“Oh.” She bit her lower lip, as he’d seen her do in moments of uncertainty.

“Relax. I’ll introduce you.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to him. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her his friends were good men, but he was sick to his stomach of lying to her. “My friends won’t hurt you, I promise. They’re good guys. And I wouldn’t let anybody hurt you.”