Page 46 of His Mistress, His Muse, and Other Madness
The warmth of a body pressed against her back, and Theo’s voice rumbled near her ear. “I would care.” A huff. “Get in the bed, then, damn you.”
She turned.
Horrid idea.
Because his chest wasjust therenow, his collarbone at eye level, the broad expanse of shoulder so much clearer so close up. Despite the dark. She dug her fingers into her forearms to keep from doing as she wished—reaching out, touching, placing a kiss.
She ducked and darted around him, dove into the bed, and that, too, was a mistake. The pillow, the sheets, the quilt—they all smelled of Theo. She inhaled, held the scent of charcoal and paper and soap in her lungs, waited for the weight of his body to join her.
Instead, she heard the rustle of paper as he put away his drawings and then the scratch of chair legs across the floor.
“Theo? A-aren’t you going to… join me?” Perhaps just one kiss before she sank into oblivion.
He stopped the chair by the bed and propped his feet up. “I’ll sleep here. Near enough you can find me if you need me.” He crossed his arms over his chest and slumped lower, letting his head fall backward to rest on the slight cushion.
“Theo, I think—”
“Sleep,” he grumbled.
She sat up, fighting the pull of the warmth, his scent, his presence. Irritation had banished the desire for a kiss. “Iwillbe listened to.”
“Humph.” His eyes still closed, his arms till crossed.
“I am asking you this favor, but I will not deny you comfort. If you do not get in this bed this instant, I will march back to my room.” To prove her point, she swung her legs off the side of the bed.
His hand clamped around her wrist, and his body half stood, hovering over her. Then he moved, slowly, pushing her back into the bed, stealing her breath.
“Fine.” His hold loosened, and she scurried away, curling herself up at the very far side of the mattress as he stretched out across from her. He folded his hands behind his head. “My father hurt you badly.”
She startled—his voice like midnight come to life.
“No. He saved me.” How many times would she be forced to take up for the man?
“He kept you locked away like a cursed princess when he could have brought you home. You could have had family. Bloody hell. I’ll never understand why that man did the things he did. Just like when I asked him about… everything. When Raph told me, finally, all those little puzzle pieces clicked together in my imbecilic brain. I demanded to know why he’d spent everything on dead paints and paper.”
“What did he say?”
Theo snorted. “The man had tears in his eyes. They never fell. Just made it seem like he was looking at me from behind a pane of glass. Said he thought I understood better than the others. That money didn’t matter. Only beauty did. And love.” Theo turned onto his side. His back curled toward her like a wall. “I won’t touch you. I promise.”
And so far, he’d kept every promise he’d made her. Made her want to cry, that did. Perhaps she would have, too, had sleep not claimed her surely as a tide rushing to the shore.
Twelve
Cordelia snored.
Damn it all to hell, the woman snored, and he found it adorable. And he never used that word—adorable. But there existed none other to describe her freckled nose snuggled against his chest, her lips slightly open, that rumble of a snore sneaking out of her and shivering across his skin.
Adorable. And endearing. And he couldn’t tell… did it break something inside him or heal something jagged?
He should not have allowed her into his bed to bring with her such words asadorableand to make him think anything about him needed healing. It did not. But she’d been so beaten by exhaustion last night, he’d been unable to say no, and he did not dare wake her to tell her to leave. She needed sleep like he needed… like he needed…
Hell. Who bloody knew anymore.
The morning sun peeked through the window, and the heat of its rays would wake her soon enough. He’d let her snore and enjoy the feel of her in his arms while it lasted. Soft and supple, strong and sensuous, vulnerable and fragile. Her hair as silky as he’d always thought it would be. An unexpected smattering of freckles across her shoulders he had to bite his lip to keep from kissing.
He should not be holding her thus—her head resting perfectly on his chest, his arm wrapped tight around her. He wanted to be a gentleman, to protect her, and seducing her would throw all that wanting away. His cock was hard as a damn rock, though, liked the idea of seduction. He should roll away from her and take himself off to perdition for stealing this embrace, for taking while she slept something she would never give him while awake. But he’d wanted her for months now, and while she slept… he had her.
Different than he’d imagined it. He’d thought it would be a passionate storm of an embrace built from animosity and frustration. It proved something much more dangerous.
