CHAPTER 25 #4
She opened her mouth, clearly gearing up to argue, to protest, to list reasons this was a terrible idea.
I stepped close before she could build momentum, lifted a finger, and gently pressed it to her lips. Just enough to quiet her and make her freeze. “Sleep,” I murmured as I leaned in and kissed her, much softer than I wanted. I tucked the shirt into her hands before reluctantly pulling away.
I stepped back and left the room, knowing if I stayed for another second . . . I wouldn’t.
I watched her padding around my bedroom on my iPad, her hair wet from her shower and my shirt hanging off her shoulder sexily in a way that would have sold a billion of them if I’d ever allowed the company to use it for an ad.
I leaned back on the couch, my beer untouched, and my eyes locked on the screen.
Making sure there were cameras installed in my room before she got here had been the idea of a century.
My phone buzzed.
Then buzzed again. And again.
I sighed and picked it up.
Gage: Did you seriously burn down her apartment today?
I smiled.
Me: Why? Impressed?
Gage: I mean, maybe a little.
Cruz: You can thank me for the idea later with flowers, Jags. I prefer the black ones.
Me: You know Daniels likes black flowers, too. You have much more in common than you think.
Lawson: Lincoln Daniels?
Cruz: Why are we talking about him again?
Me: Aww. Cruzy’s jealous.
Cruz:
Maddox: By “did you seriously burn down her apartment today,” did you mean “thank you, Maddox, for your elite fire-starting services”?
Maddox: You can thank me with Dallas Knights tickets, by the way. Not flowers. Because that’s fucking weird.
Lawson: Before Cruz murders Maddox, can we circle back to the part where no one invited me?
Cruz was being oddly quiet considering Maddox’s shit-talking. Hopefully, he wasn’t actually murdering him. I needed Maddox’s burrito-procuring skills.
And I guess his fire-starting skills as well.
Gage: Invited you to what? The bonfire? Is that a real question?
Lawson: Yes. How come no one ever asks me to burn down buildings with them? Or hit people with my car?
Lawson: I have a very nice car. You assholes know that. I definitely could have done the job better than Zachary.
Maddox: Don’t worry, boys. That wasn’t a real question.
I glanced at my iPad screen. Eden was standing beside the bed, staring around with a surprised look on her face, probably questioning how she’d gotten here.
My phone buzzed again, reminding me there was still an inane conversation happening.
Gage: Not sure hacking the thermostat would have helped in this situation, Lawson.
I smirked. Gage was brave talking like that to him. Or stupid. Maybe we’d go with that.
There was a long pause in the chat.
Lawson: Interesting.
Maddox: What does that mean?
Lawson: Nothing. Just running a quick diagnostic.
Gage: On what?
Lawson: Maddox, thanks for your very generous contribution.
Maddox: What?
A minute passed, and I was grinning like an idiot as I went back and forth between watching Eden and waiting to hear what Lawson just did.
Maddox: WHY IS THERE A MILLION DOLLARS MISSING FROM MY ACCOUNT?
I started laughing so hard I had to cover my mouth so Eden wouldn’t hear me.
Cruz:
Nice of Cruz to pop back in for this. He was probably at Lawson’s right now, plotting revenge with him.
But also, this was why I didn’t mess with Lawson.
Gage: What just happened?
Maddox: LAWSON.
Lawson: Relax. It’s in escrow. Technically.
Maddox: YOU PUT MY MONEY IN ESCROW?
Lawson: I’m just showing you how good I can contribute. I’m contributing.
Maddox: I SWEAR TO FUCKING—
Gage: Why did I just get a secure notification from Bureau IT saying my credentials attempted to log in from Belarus?
Gage: LAWSON!
Lawson: Oh calm down. It’s a spoofed ping. Your clearance is fine. I just rerouted your IP through six countries to make a point.
Gage: YOU CANNOT “MAKE A POINT” WITH MY FEDERAL CLEARANCE.
Cruz: I love this chat.
Maddox: PUT MY MONEY BACK.
Lawson: Apologize for the thermostat comment.
Gage: I APOLOGIZE.
Me: Eden’s settling in fine just in case any of you were wondering.
Maddox: I just lost a million dollars, Thatcher. Literally no one is fucking wondering.
Me: What a whiner. Things must be bad when you aren’t stalking me.
Cruz: Don’t worry. I’m still stalking you, Jagger.
I scoffed and took a sip of beer, covering up the camera on my iPad with my finger…just in case.
On the screen, Eden hovered beside my bed like it might reject her.
She lowered herself carefully at first, clearly bracing for the familiar assault of cheap springs. Instead, the mattress adjusted under her, cradling instead of jabbing. She went still for a second, as if she didn’t trust it. Then she shifted experimentally.
Her whole body relaxed in stages—shoulders first, then her hips, then that constant tension she carried in her spine just .
. . let go. She rolled onto her back, then her side, testing it, and when the mattress followed her movements as though it had been engineered specifically for her, a disbelieving smile spread across her face.
There it was.
Nirvana.
One hundred thousand dollars’ worth of cloudlike engineering and obscenely high-thread-count sheets whispering against her skin.
She pressed her cheek into the pillow, smiling with the quiet wonder of someone who’d just discovered a secret she hadn’t known she’d been missing her whole life.
I leaned back on the couch. Maybe that should have been my game plan all along.
No need to burn her belongings; she’d move in just for my bed.
My phone was going wild . . . something about Maddox losing another million for failing to apologize, but I’d set the phone face down, letting them spiral without me.
I waited until the feed showed she’d finally stopped tossing and turning. I hadn’t given her a sedative tonight. A glass of champagne, orgasms, emotional collapse, and a mattress that felt like it was engineered by God himself? That would get her to sleep.
I set my beer down and pushed off the couch, moving through the penthouse without turning on any extra lights. Her door was cracked, and I eased it open and stepped inside.
She was curled in the center of my bed, my shirt twisted around her middle, her hair fanned across my pillow.
And there was that feeling again. The one that went beyond lust and possession and made me want to handcuff her to my wrist so she could never go anywhere without me.
I pulled the covers back and slid in behind her carefully, making sure not to wake her up. Not because I was worried about her finding me in bed with her anymore but because I knew she was exhausted.
I lay there on my back, staring at the ceiling, deliriously happy with myself that this was how the day had ended . . . with her in my bed and nowhere else to go.
“Jagger,” she suddenly murmured.
I froze, thinking she had woken up, but before I could check, she rolled over, fitting herself against me like she’d done it a thousand times before. Her head settled into my chest, and her arm draped across my ribs as she sank deeper into sleep.
There was no way I was going to be able to rest tonight.
I was too amped for tomorrow . . . for the way her thighs would part for me when I slid inside her and she felt every thick inch of my dick. The way her back would arch off the mattress, her nails digging into my shoulders, and her mouth open on a broken moan as I filled her completely.
I would go condomless for the first time, I thought dreamily. No barriers between us.
I’d hold her hips down, keep her pinned . . . watch her face when she came. Then I’d follow, spilling inside her, marking her from the inside out until there was no question who she belonged to.
Tomorrow.
Fucking tomorrow.
She shifted again in her sleep, pressing closer, her nose brushing the hollow of my throat. A soft sound slipped from her lips—half sigh, half whimper—and my cock jerked against her belly.
I swallowed hard and forced myself to stay still. To savor it.
This was only the beginning.
I couldn’t wait for…tomorrow.