Page 344 of A Vicious Love

“Yes, baby.”

She smiled, eyes closing again. “Good.”

I stayed exactly where I was.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

SIENNA

By the end of the retreat, I had begun dreading returning to Harlan. My bags had already been carried downstairs by staff. Jamison’s were gone before mine, because Reeves ran luggage movement with more authority than most men ran military operations.

I stood beside the bed, watching Jamison fasten his watch. He looked more Crow this morning. Black shirt. Black trousers. Sleeves rolled. Gun holsters. Dark hair still slightly damp from the shower. The relaxed side of him had already vanished, replaced by the polished brutality Harlan expected.

“Come here,” he said.

My body had learned his voice in a way that still embarrassed me. One low command, and I crossed the room as if the floor had been built only for that purpose.

His hand found my waist. “Sore?”

“A little.”

His gaze sharpened. “A little or lying?”

“A little,” I said, softer. “Truly.”

He studied me as if my body might send him a written report. Then his thumb brushed my hip through the fabric, and his expression eased by one small, possessive degree.

“No family heroics today,” he said. “You ride with me. You rest.”

He looked so serious that I laughed, and he kissed me before the sound had finished leaving my mouth.

It was meant to be quick. We had people waiting downstairs. My mother had already sent enough polite messages asking whether we needed assistance leaving, which meant she was seconds from arriving herself with a clipboard. But Jamison kissed me slowly enough that the entire morning blurred around the edges.

When he lifted his head, his mouth stayed close to mine. “Stay at my house tonight.”

My heart tripped.

He said it as though it had been decided inside him already.

“My house,” he repeated, because I must have looked dazed. “The old side of Harlan. I don’t want to sleep without you.”

The words went through me in a warm rush that nearly made me foolish.

“You really mean that?”

His face tightened, as if the question hurt. “Yes, baby.”

I nodded before I could make myself be careful. “Okay.”

His hand slid to the back of my neck, and his kiss turned deeper, the sort that made my toes press into the floor and my hands search for something steady. I held onto his shirt. He made a low sound of approval against my mouth.

By the time Reeves knocked downstairs, once, Jamison looked as if he was considering cancelling Harlan.

“We have to go,” I whispered.

“No.”

“Jamison.”