Page 120 of Lady Killer

I returned to find her exactly as I had left her, splayed out wide on my bed, covered in my seed, her lids drooping as she idly lay there. If I had felt possessive of her before, it was nothing compared to how I felt at the sight of her wearing nothing but me.

I forced myself to clean her up. As much as I wanted her to wear my mark, I wanted her to be comfortable more.

“What are you doing?” she asked sleepily, barely lifting her head to take me in.

“Taking care of what’s mine.”

I gently ran the cloth down her curves, collecting every drop of the mess I had made of her. Then I wrapped my hand under her head to lift it up. “Drink.”

Too tired to argue, she took several careful sips before looking up at me with a lazy smile that I knew just how few were privileged to.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

I kissed her forehead before standing to return to the bathroom to clean myself up.

By the time I returned, Luz was half-asleep, and I slid in behind her on the bed, pulling her body flush to mine.

For a breath, I felt her stiffen, but then, she relaxed into my touch with a soft sigh, and after a couple of minutes, her breathing evened out as she fell asleep.

My Luz.

Chapter thirty-three

Luz

The winds whipping around campus had turned a surprisingly pleasant March day into another bitterly cold night.

Nixon had warned me about false spring, telling me not to get my hopes up.

Because it was Nixon, I didn’t listen, and now, I was once again regretting my fashion choices in the face of Connecticut’s unpredictable weather.

My white cardigan hugged my curves and exposed more of my décolletage than I was usually comfortablewith, but men made stupid choices when they started thinking with their hindbrains.

Beauty can be deadly when we know how to wield it, Mami would say.

I’d paired it with my favorite skirt that I’d worn on the first day of classes over nylons and white thigh-high socks, and with my favorite chunky black boots.

While I was at the townhouse, a beautiful ankle-length camel wool coat had been delivered for me. Alister refused to take credit for it, but I knew it was him. Everest was apparently a DIY guy, and no one else cared enough.

Still, not even his thoughtful gift could keep me warm against the gusts of wind that made my hair swirl around me like a tempest. It would no doubt look like a bird’s nest by the time I made it to the Dagger and the Rose, putting a slight hitch in my efforts to distract Clayton with my feminine wiles.

Alister and Nixon were traveling there separately, and the familiar sensation of them lurking in the shadows never left me.

I’d barely made it through the pub’s door when two large hands clasped my shoulders, nearly sending me out of my skin.

“Luz! You made it,” Clayton said with a toothsome grin, reaching down to kiss meon the cheek.

I wanted to turn away and kick him in the shin but instead stood on my toes to offer him my best attempt at a hug.

“Come on,” he said, releasing me after several beats too long, “I got us a spot.”

We made our way to a cozy-looking booth in the back of the pub.

“May I take your coat?”

Forcing a polite smile, I accepted before sitting down.

Clayton hung our coats up, and then, to my displeasure, slid into the seat next to me, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

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