Chapter 20
Icouldn't wipe the smile off my face as I closed Cole's door behind me.
Tonight had been a victory on multiple fronts.
Not only had I gotten Cole to drop another one of his carefully constructed barriers and actually trust me in a much more physical way, but I'd watched our girl's face as Logan touched her.
I'd seen the way her body responded, the flush on her cheeks, the quickening of her breath.
She was so close to breaking, to giving in.
I could practically taste her surrender on my tongue.
My cock was still painfully hard in my jeans.
I hadn't gotten any relief during my session with Cole, that had been about him, about pulling him back from the edge of his nightmares.
And then Logan had brought Cade in, and everything had shifted.
The look on her face as she watched us..
. fuck, I couldn't get it out of my head.
The mixture of shock and arousal, the way she couldn't tear her eyes away even as she tried to deny her interest. I needed release.
I needed to take the edge off before I did something stupid.
I made my way to the kitchen, my movements automatic as I pulled out the milk, the chocolate, and the small bottle I kept behind the chocolate tin.
My special ingredient. Just like my mother used to make for me, though I used a much lighter dose.
Just enough to make Cade sleep deeply, to ensure she wouldn't wake during my visits. Not enough to harm her. Never that.
As I stirred the mixture, watching the steam rise in lazy curls, I thought about what Logan had said.
About breaking her before the Alumni Dinner.
About the dangers that awaited her if we failed to make her truly ours.
The thought of Dominic Blake getting his hands on her made my blood run cold.
Made the darkness inside me rise like a tide, threatening to drown me in its depths.
No. I wouldn't let that happen. I would protect her, even from herself if necessary. Even if she hated me for it.
The hot chocolate was ready. I poured it into one of my favourite mugs for her, the purple one with little stars that I'd bought specifically for her, and made my way to her room.
I didn't bother knocking, just unlocked the door and pushed it open and stepped inside.
She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, a book open in her lap, her purple hair falling in a curtain around her face.
She looked up when I entered, her expression immediately guarded.
"What do you want?" she asked, but there was less bite in her tone than usual. She was tired. The events of the last few days had taken their toll.
"Brought you something to help you sleep," I said, crossing to her bed and holding out the mug. "You've had a rough few days." She eyed the mug suspiciously, then looked up at me with those piercing blue eyes that saw too much.
"Why do you care if I sleep?" I shrugged, keeping my expression neutral.
"Can't have our Consort walking around like a zombie, can we? Bad for the House image." She snorted, but took the mug from my hands.
"Right. The House image. That's what you're concerned about."
I sat on the edge of her bed without invitation, watching as she brought the mug to her lips and blew at the steam. She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"Do you record me when I'm sleeping too?" she asked suddenly, and I felt a jolt of something like panic before I smoothed it away. Then I grinned, leaning in closer, letting my predatory nature show just enough to make her pulse jump.
"Of course I do, Poison. I record everything.
How else am I supposed to keep you safe?
" Her eyes widened slightly, and I could see the wheels turning in her head, I could almost hear her wondering just how much I'd seen, how much I knew.
I wondered for a moment if that was why she was in my room in the first place.
Good. Let her wonder. Let her feel as off balance as she made me feel.
"Drink up," I said, nodding at the mug still clutched in her hands. "Doctor's orders." She rolled her eyes but took a sip, then another. I watched her throat work as she swallowed, imagining trailing my lips along that delicate column of skin, feeling her pulse flutter beneath my tongue.
“Are you going to sit and watch me drink it?” she bit at me, I hadn’t even noticed I was staring. She was clearly still testy about earlier.
“Fine,” I said standing up, “Just make sure you drink it before it goes cold.”
“Yeah yeah,” she said almost dismissively. Her sass was getting brave tonight and something inside me loved it.
"Get some sleep, Poison. You look like you need it." I gave her one last lingering look before heading for the door. I could feel her eyes on me, burning into my back, but I didn't turn around. I had preparations to make.
Back in my room, I immediately pulled up the feed from Cade's bedroom on my monitors.
She was still sitting on her bed, staring at the door I'd just exited through.
For some reason she looked slightly flushed and her book was on the end of the bed, but other than that she looked the same.
I noticed that she had put the mug down, and from the angle of the camera I could see that it was pretty much empty.
Wow, that was quick. With a sigh, Cade moved the book from the bed to the floor and got into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin.
I watched, my breath catching as she shifted, getting comfortable.
The way the blanket outlined her curves, the soft rise and fall of her chest as her breathing began to slow.
She was so fucking beautiful it hurt to look at her sometimes.
It seemed a little quick for her to be settling down to sleep, especially after emptying the mug so rapidly.
A flicker of suspicion crossed my mind, but I pushed it aside.
She'd had an exhausting day, emotionally and physically. Of course she'd be ready to crash.
I waited, watching the monitor intently as her breathing evened out, as her body relaxed into the mattress. Twenty minutes passed, then thirty. I wanted to be absolutely sure she was deeply asleep before I made my move. The last thing I needed was for her to wake up and catch me in the act.
Finally satisfied, I reached into my bedside drawer and pulled out a couple of condoms. I'd learned my lesson the first time, the mess had been a bitch to clean up without waking her. This was cleaner, safer. I tucked them into my pocket and made my way quietly down the hallway to her room.
I opened her door without a sound, slipping inside and closing it behind me.
The room was dark except for the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, casting her sleeping form in silver and shadow.
I stood for a moment, just watching her, drinking in the sight of her.
My Poison. I moved closer, my footsteps silent on the plush carpet.
She was lying on her back, one arm flung above her head, the other resting on her stomach.
Her lips were slightly parted, her chest rising and falling in the deep, even rhythm of sleep.
I sank to my knees beside her bed, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from her body, to catch the faint scent of her shampoo, something floral and sweet that made my head spin.
My cock hardened painfully in my jeans again at the proximity, at the knowledge of what I was about to do.
This was my ritual, my sacred moment with her.
The only time I could touch her without her pulling away, without her fighting me.
The only time I could pretend, just for a little while, that she was truly mine.
I reached out, my hand hovering over her for a heartbeat before I gently, oh so gently, brushed my fingertips against her cheek.
She seemed to tense briefly, and I paused until her breathing evened out again.
I grew bolder, tracing the line of her jaw, the curve of her neck, down to the swell of her breast beneath her thin sleep shirt.
I cupped her breast in my palm, feeling the weight of it, the softness.
Her nipple hardened beneath my touch, and I had to bite back a groan.
I circled it with my thumb, imagining how it would taste on my tongue, how she would arch into me if she were awake and willing.
Or even asleep and unknowing, how I could play her body like a fine instrument, and she would never even know.
My other hand moved to unbutton my jeans, to free my aching cock.
I wrapped my fingers around my length, stroking slowly as I continued to explore her body with my free hand.
Down her side, over the curve of her hip, to the hem of her sleep shorts.
I slipped my fingers beneath the fabric, tracing patterns on her warm thigh, moving higher, closer to the heat between her legs.
When my fingertips brushed against the cotton of her panties, I nearly came right then and there.
She was damp. Fuck, she was wet. Had she been dreaming of us?
Of me? Or was it a lingering effect from Logan's teasing earlier?
I didn't care. All that mattered was that she wanted it, even if she wouldn't admit it while conscious.
I stroked her through the thin fabric, feeling her heat, her wetness.
My cock throbbed in my hand, and I knew I wouldn't last long.
Not tonight. Not with the memory of her face as she watched Cole and me, not with the knowledge that she was so close to surrendering.