Chapter Eight
Riley
My eyes opened at the first pale streaks of dawn filtering through the closed curtains in Annalise's bedroom. I'd had another miserable night of sleep, though I couldn't blame this one on the floor or the too short couch in her sitting room.
After that ill-advised kiss, a kiss that had left me aching, hard, and determined never to touch her again, Annalise had stayed by my side until the last guest departed. The second the door shut behind them, she fled for the safety of her bedroom.
I gave her enough time to change before knocking on her bedroom door and swinging it open.
I found her tucked into bed reading, a tablet propped on her lap. I still don't know if I was disappointed or relieved to see her wearing a sleep shirt with matching pajama pants.
The last thing I needed after that kiss was Annalise in lingerie. Not that the sleep shirt and cotton pants were a turnoff. I was trying to put the kiss out of my mind, but it refused to go. I could still taste her.
"I'm taking the other half of the bed," I announced.
"That couch is about two feet too short for me, and I'm not sleeping on the floor again.
" Gesturing to her bed, an antique style brass bed covered with ribbon trimmed pillows and a pink and white quilt, I said, "This thing is plenty big enough for the two of us. You won't even know I'm there."
Annalise’s blue eyes narrowed on me. I imagined I could see the wheels turning in her brain. She must have decided to save her energy for a fight worth winning because she flung out her hand toward the opposite side of the bed and said, "Keep your hands to yourself, and we won't have a problem."
She then proceeded to ignore me completely. I did the same.
I had no interest in sleeping on the floor, but the last thing we needed was an intimate chat while we shared the same blankets. I was here to do a job, and it was bad business to fuck the client.
I pretended to go to sleep, long before she turned out the light.
The bed was huge, and we were separated by feet of mattress, but I could feel her there, hear the soft cadence of her breath in sleep, the scent of ocean and fresh fruit drifting from her side of the bed.
Behind my closed lids, I saw her in that elegant navy dress, teasing the barest hint of cleavage and long leg.
I saw the desire in her eyes after I kissed her, the swollen pink lips and flags of color in her cheekbones.
I saw her need, and her shock, and her fear. It was the last part I couldn't quite figure out. Need was easy. As hot as that kiss had been, both of us were close to desperate by the time we broke away.
Shock was also easily explained, considering she hadn't expected me to kiss her, though logically, she should have.
But the fear… It was almost like she was afraid I'd hurt her. Like she had to protect herself from me. The distance she tried to put between us. The way she slid her chair away from mine. She had to know she was safe with me.
That was the reason I was here—to keep her safe.
What was she afraid of?
In the night, I grabbed one of the pink-ribboned pillows and shoved it between us, needing the barrier after I'd woken for the third time to find myself reaching for her. It was one thing to sleep in half of her bed, and another to wake with her in my arms.
I watched the light through the curtains grow brighter and knew I wasn't going back to sleep.
Carefully, so I didn't wake Annalise, I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom, passing through the closet on my way and grabbing my workout gear.
If I couldn't sleep, at least I could burn off some of this tension while Annalise was safely contained in her bedroom.
Winters House was massive, but the layout was a simple square around the center courtyard. Once I'd walked through it, it was easy to find my way around.
I headed for the lower level, skipping the regular entrance by the kitchen in favor of the secret staircase hidden in the library.
Aiden had shown me the latch, deep in a groove in the underside of the mantle.
I slid my fingers in and pushed. The door swung open, appearing out of the wood paneling as if by magic, revealing a narrow, spiral staircase lit by flickering lights.
The staircase from the library opened into a wide, tall, brightly lit hallway that ran the length of the house. The first room to the left was the theater, though it held more than an oversized movie screen and reclining leather chairs.
The Winters had stocked it with a full bar and a pool table, along with a random assortment of old school arcade games and pinball machines.
The next door opened into an expansive home gym, complete with multiple treadmills, a rowing machine, every weight I could possibly need, even ropes fastened to the ceiling for climbing and wall ladders for agility.
The ropes and ladders looked ancient, and I doubted anyone had used them in decades.
The walls were tiled in shiny rectangles, subway tiles, that had come back into style in the last few years.
These were vintage. I could see echoes of the past century in the unused exposed pipes still fastened to the ceiling and the antique leather medicine balls piled seemingly haphazardly in the corner.
I hit the treadmill and settled in for a run at a good pace. I'd grown up in a normal house in the suburbs, my parents both professionals who drove newish cars and took us on fun vacations. None of that even remotely equipped me to handle a family like this.
I couldn't imagine the weight of history, of the past, that came with being one of them. What was it like for Aiden to come down here and work out in a room his grandfather had built? What was it like to carry that legacy?
I was glad I'd never know. I liked my independence. I didn't want the past to dictate my future. I finished my workout on the treadmill, hit the weights for a while, and used one of the private showers connected to the gym, planning to change into fresh clothes I'd brought just for that purpose.
Sharing the suite with Annalise was hard enough, I didn't want to walk in on her in the bathroom. Just the thought of her in the shower, the scent of her soap, her shiny wet skin—I squeezed my eyes shut and banished the image from my mind.
Annalise is a job, I reminded myself. You're not going there again.
Even if I could forget the fact that she dumped me while I lay in a hospital bed, breaking my heart and never looking back, she wasn't my ex-girlfriend here.
She was a client.
She was the job.
Hadn't I just been thinking I didn't want the past to dictate my future? Just because we’d fucked back in the day didn't mean it was going to happen now.
My head was on board, but my cock wasn't getting the message. Every time I thought about Annalise. In that dress, sleeping in her modest pajama set, naked in the shower—it didn't seem to matter.
Annalise popped into my head, and my cock came to life.
Since he wasn't running this job, he was going to have to wait. When it was over, I'd call one of my regular hookups, and he could work out his issues. That idea should have held appeal, but when I tried to conjure up a mental image of the last woman I'd slept with, I got nothing.
Bracing one hand against the tiled shower wall, I leaned forward and wrapped my soapy fingers around my cock, stroking and trying to think of anything but Annalise.
I just needed to work out a little tension, that was all, and I didn't need her to do it. I was halfway there, caught up in a fantasy of a faceless woman with big tits when Annalise invaded my mind. The mystery woman and her big tits were gone, and I was in Annalise’s bed, reaching for her in the night.
This time, I didn't put a pillow between us.
This time my fingers met bare skin, and she rolled into me, raising her arms and murmuring my name.
This time, when I kissed her she wasn't surprised, she was ready.
Sinking her fingers into my hair and rolling to hook her legs over my hips, the heat of her body against mine drawing a groan from my throat.
I didn't even get to the fucking part of the fantasy before my balls drew tight, my hand stroked faster, and I came against the shower wall, gasping for breath.
Fuck.
That hadn't gone the way I'd planned.
Then again, not much had since Annalise Winters had walked back into my life.
Just my luck, everyone was at the breakfast table when I arrived, freshly showered, and not at all relaxed. Especially not with Lise sitting there beside Sophie, her long blonde hair in a messy knot, her face bare of makeup, wearing a faded T-shirt and a loose pair of jeans.
How the fuck could she be that gorgeous first thing in the morning?
I grabbed a plate and helped myself to the buffet set out on the sideboard.
The cook, Abel, didn't go halfway with breakfast. There were Belgian waffles, fluffy scrambled eggs, grits, and a linen-covered basket of biscuits.
A separate steamer held fat sausages and crispy bacon.
I piled my plate high, glad I'd put in extra time on my workout.
The seat next to Lise was empty, and I took it, filling my coffee cup from the carafe. "Sleep well?" I asked her, the question coming out more abrupt than I’d intended. My session in the shower clearly hadn't taken off the edge.
Annalise's face was a polite mask as she said, “Yes, very well. You?"
Across the table her great-aunt Amelia snorted with barely suppressed laughter, her sharp Winters blue eyes bouncing from me to Annalise and back to me.
Annalise dropped the mask to scowl at Amelia. "Do you have something to say?"
Amelia shrugged in badly feigned innocence. "Me? Oh, no. I could, but I think I'm going to let you two make a mess of this all on your own." Sending a conspiratorial glance at Sophie, she said, “It's more fun for us that way."