Page 23 of Heartless Sinner

“I don’t have a guest room,” I said. “But I’ll take the couch.”

Marla stared at me like I’d lost my mind. “You’re going to take the couch? I’m half your size, I’ll take it.”

“You’re the one they’ll be after,” I said with a frown. “The couch is too close to the door, too close for an attack.”

“I’m not going to kick you out of your bed,” Marla replied.

Damn it. This woman was just as obstinate as I was. I could see a lengthy battle of wills ahead of us. Well, I had asked for this.

“Would you be open to sharing it?” I asked, trying to be polite, when I could have just joined her, whether she liked it, or not. “We might as well get used to sharing it anyway.”

Marla’s cheeks went an adorable pink color, but that was the only sign she was caught off-guard. She really didn’t like for me to know that I could knock her off balance.

But I liked that I could get her to lower that guard with me, and show she could trust me. And I suspected, after seeing her with her father this evening, that she was cautious like this around most people. Smart of her. I’d just have to prove myself to be an exception.

“All right,” Marla said, and narrowed her gaze at me. “But don’t try anything. I’m too damn tired.”

I snorted with laughter. It was after midnight by this point, and there was no way I had the energy, either. “I’ve got some pajamas you can borrow.”

It was almost, but not quite, what our married life would be like. Marla was tense, but she looked adorable in my long-sleeved silk pajama shirt when she came out of the master bathroom, sans the bottoms so her legs were bare, and her unbound hair now falling in soft waves along her shoulders. The lounge set was a gift from some aunt or other of mine, one of those older relatives that would always give me presents that were appropriate but not practical for a man who preferred to sleep in boxer shorts, or nothing at all.

The light blue of the pajama top suited Marla, complimenting her eyes, and the monogramed initials on the shirt pocket made a low, possessive growl of satisfaction stir up in my chest. It made her look like she was mine, which she would be very soon.

But there was none of the relaxation that I hoped for in the days and weeks to come for us. Marla climbed into bed with a faraway look on her face, like she was already silently making her own plans, trying to figure out who could be attacking her family, and I didn’t know how to fill the silence when I didn’t have any concrete answers yet. I wasn’t sure how to comfort her. I wanted to, but I didn’t know her well enough. Would she like to be held? Or would she prefer words?

I didn’t know her preference, so I just made sure I had my gun on the nightstand for added protection, and took my side of the bed, while Marla settled in next to me, leaving a few feet of space between us.

There was something that didn’t feel right about this entire thing, and until we figured it out, I knew I wasn’t going to sleep easy.

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Chapter Twelve

Marla

* * *

I woke up with someone holding me.

For a second, I had no idea where I was. I had a moment of feeling safety and comfort, feeling held in a way that I’d always yearned for—and then I had a moment of panic as I wondered who the fuck was in bed with me.

Then I actually woke up further, recognizing Vince’s warm male scent as I slowly blinked my eyes open and remembered last night.

Last night. When Vincent Russo had turned my head upside down, when he’d given me the best date and the most phenomenal orgasms of my life and he hadn’t even properly fucked me yet. And then—the attack on my father. A sniper. So much confusion, Vince asking my father’s permission for my hand, the marriage official with no way out, no time to change my mind—coming back to Vince’s place—

Vince. He was the one holding me.

He was pressed up against my back, his thick, muscled thigh slid between my bare legs, his arm heavy over my waist, his hand resting low on my stomach. Heat flooded me and I just knew that my cheeks were on fire. His rigid erection pressed up against my ass and I couldn’t help but think how easy it would be to push back into that hard length, to see if we could finish what he’d oh-so-expertly started the night before…

His hand was right there. It would only take another inch or two for him to put those talented fingers inside me, to push my panties aside and give him access so he could slide his cock into me… and take me nice and slow from behind…

My sex pulsed and I could feel myself starting to get wet and aroused. My heart pounded. There was no way I should do anything about this. I should just get up, slip into the bathroom, and put distance between us.

But you’re going to be married anyway, the traitorous part of my brain whispered to me. You don’t want him straying to a mistress, do you?

And he was so very good at sex…

Well, I wasn’t some delicate maiden who needed a man to show me all the ropes. Even if I did love the way he took control, I wasn’t going to just wait for him to make all the moves all the time. Why not give him a little demonstration of what I could bring to the table?

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