Page 339 of A Vicious Love

That sound did something shameful to me. A contented woman in my arms should not have felt more powerful than a room full of men on their knees, but it did.

Her hand softened on my chest. “You’re warm.”

“I run hot.”

“You do.”

She sounded half asleep already.

I looked down at her, at the curve of her cheek against me. The sheet sat low over her hips, doing a poor job of covering anything. My fingers moved through her hair, detangling gently, because apparently that was another humiliating skill I would now develop.

Hair management.

If Harrison could see me, he would call a priest. Marcel would understand, which was worse.

Sienna’s breathing began to slow.

She was drifting.

On me.

I stayed still because moving felt criminal.

The alarm on her phone went off twenty minutes later. She jolted, then made a wounded sound into my chest. I reached blindly toward the bedside table, found the phone, and silenced it before the second chime could commit further violence.

Sienna lifted her head. “Breakfast.”

“No.”

She blinked. “We have family breakfast at the estate.”

“No.”

“Jamison.”

“They can have lunch and dinner. I’m taking the morning.”

“I shouldn’t miss it. My mother will notice.” Sienna winced and shifted on top of me.

I stilled at once. “Pain?”

“A little. Moving reminded me.”

My hand moved to her hip, holding her steady. “Then you are definitely staying in bed.”

She lowered her face back to my chest. “I don’t want to let go of you yet.”

The sentence landed in me without warning. I stared at the ceiling for a second. Then my arm tightened around her.

“You don’t have to.”

She kissed my chest again, softer than before. “You’ll have to be the mean Crow and keep them away so I can keep laying here.”

“I have been training my whole life for this moment.”

She laughed into my skin. “Poor Reeves.”

“Reeves loves his profession.”