Page 122 of To Catch A Rogue
She felt boneless. Utterly relaxed. He might have to carry her to the carriage.
He laughed again.
"Do you want me to—"
"No," he said.
Lark shivered in his arms, as Charlie slowly stroked her back.
"Not yet. When I get my hands on you, there's going to be no reason to hurry. I want total privacy for what I intend."
Lark lifted her head and groaned.
They were under a bridge, soaked to the skin, and he'd ruined her with just one kiss. It had to be the bloodlust in her system from the fight.
"You drive me crazy, Charlie Todd."
"Good." He rose up onto his elbows. "Because you've been doing that to me for years."
* * *
"Where have you been?"Gemma asked brusquely as she knelt and examined a dead man's face.
"Lark was helping to see to my wound," Charlie said. "Some bastard shot me."
"Where?" Gemma straightened intently.
"Flesh wound," he replied. "Nothing a little blood won't fix."
Lark's hand tugged at his, as if it embarrassed her to be caught holding his hand. He deliberately laced their fingers together and looked at her.
"I see," Gemma said, her gaze lifting to both their faces. "Well, I think it about time to return home. Obsidian's managed to truss up one of our erstwhile attackers, and he'd like a little privacy so we can have a chat with him. Think you can drive a carriage? Our driver has vanished."
"More Black Wolves?"
Gemma pursed her lips. "They were wearing their masks, yes."
"You sound unconvinced."
"This is the second attack featuring a group of blue bloods wearing wolf masks. Call me paranoid, but when Balfour wants me to believe something so desperately, I feel like I really mustn't."
He nodded. "Either that or there’s definitely a schism between the wolves."
Chapter 23
Lark hadn’t needed much convincing to join Charlie in the heated waters again, though she’d worn her chemise this time, small good that it did.
She’d been trembling with cold by the time they returned to the diplomat’s house, her lip starting to shudder. She hadn’t given a thought to consequences, or the fact it was only Charlie and her, until they were in the waters.
And now she was here, the chemise draped to her skin and her nipples clearly visible, while she was fairly certain Charlie wore not a stitch.
"How's the shoulder?" she asked.
"Healed, but still a little tender."
"Pity."
"Thought you'd forgiven me by now."
