“Whether you like sass or not.”
“I like it on you.”
“Then I have it in spades.”
Permission granted, Adam swept his fingers from the base of her neck to the small of her back with the perfect amount of pressure. Her moan rose from deep within, and she had to bite her bottom lip to keep it from escaping.
As if he was committing her shape to memory, he paused now and again to trace a hard line or explore a soft curve. Always respectful, he steered clear of any areas he considered off limits.
It was both endearing and frustrating.
She liked the feel of his hands.
Actually, wouldn’t mind if they dipped a little lower.
Ridiculous under the circumstances, and a testament to her level of exhaustion-amped stupidity. Eve planned to leave in the morning. Adam intended to stop her. The basis for their earlier disagreement, she was too tired to fight about it now.
Eyelids heavy and her limbs boneless, she sank into his comfort, content to let him hold her for as long as he wanted. The world receded and nothing existed beyond the circle of his arms. Synced with his, her body rhythms slowed, and she started to drift.
Tell me you love me, Mommy.
No!Her full-body jerk startled them both, and Adam’s arms tightened reflexively. “Shh, it’s okay. I got you, Eve. You’re safe now.”
Close to another round of tears, she couldn’t speak, so she took a shaky breath instead, and nodded her head.
“You want me to stay?”
She fired off another nod, this one a triple head bob executed in rapid succession.
“Okay,” He untangled himself from her and stood. “Scooch over.”
Feeling his physical absence like a hole in her chest, she was positive she heard him wrong. “What did you say?”
“You heard me. I said scooch.” He shooed her to the other side of the bed with a couple of flicks of his fingers. “I sleep near the door.”
“Scooch? Is that like an official order?” She sat up straighter, crossed her legs grade-school style, and looked at him through blurry eyes.
“You being sassy again?” He cocked a brow as he pulled one gun after the other and placed them on the bedside table.
“You said you liked my sass.” Mesmerized, she watched him peel the leather straps off his shoulders and toss the empty holster onto a chair in the corner.
“I do like your sass.” From his pocket, he pulled a knife she didn’t know he carried and with a flick of his wrist he opened the blade. “But when it comes to your safety, you’ll follow orders like scooch. Got it?”
“Got it. Not exactly sure I like it though.”
His smile turned wicked. “This is for you. Use it if you need to.” In one fluid motion, he tossed the knife in the air, caught it by the blade, and threw it across the bed. It stuck into the top of the wooden table on her side, handle quivering from the impact.
Impressive. And unnecessary.
“Well, that escalated quickly.” She waved her hand from one side of the bed to the other while he one-armed his shirt over his head, exposing enough muscle to make a woman drool. “You know. You could have just handed it to me. No need to go around maiming the furniture, Adam Grayson.”
He balled the Henley and it landed on top of the holster. Then hands bunched into fists, he leaned over and pressed both arms into the mattress. The depression caused her to sway his way, and dipping his head, he speared her with a look dangerous enough to start her insides trembling—for all the wrong reasons. Or all the right reasons—depending on which side of the danger zone you preferred to live on.
“Where’s the fun in that, Eve Langley? Now are you going to move your butt over, or am I going to have to do it for you?”
God, he was bossy.
And demanding.
