Chapter 19
CIPHER
I watched Annie sleep beside me, her body curled against mine like she belonged there.
The false window displayed a gentle sunrise, casting golden light across her skin.
I’d programmed it that way so that the warm, soft illumination would highlight the curves of her body and the peaceful expression on her face.
There was a seventy-three percent chance she’d wake up panicking.
Eighty-six percent she’d try to leave immediately.
Numbers I didn’t like, but couldn’t argue with based on empirical evidence.
Not that the numbers mattered. If she tried to bolt, I would catch her.
I would pin her back to the mattress and remind her exactly whose bed she was in.
My thumb barely stroked her lower back, careful not to wake her.
Her skin was warm silk beneath my touch, marked here and there with evidence of last night.
My fingerprints bruised her hips. Love bites mottled her neck and shoulders, blending into the faint red lines where I had used the riding crop on her.
My gaze drifted and snagged on the jagged line just below her left collarbone. The scar from Dread’s knife. I had put her in the position to take that blade and my betrayal carved that reminder into her skin.
Last night, driven by a possessive jealousy I still hadn’t fully contained, I had sunk my teeth directly over the silvered tissue. I wanted to overwrite the memory of my failure. Now a fresh ring of bruised and broken skin framed the old wound.
My thoughts fractured into a mess of guilt and dark satisfaction. I hurt her when she received the initial strike. I hurt her again trying to erase it.
After we had frantically fucked for hours, when she finally lay boneless in my arms, I had taken a warm cloth and meticulously cleaned the broken flesh. Now, I wanted to lean down and kiss the abused skin but I forced my jaw shut and remained still. Kissing the spot would wake her.
Instead, I memorized the curve of her spine, the constellation of freckles across her shoulder blades, the way her hair spilled across my pillow in tangled waves. Evidence that she was here, in my bed, where she belonged.
Mine. Even if I had to cage her to keep it that way.
Annie stirred beside me, her breathing pattern shifting from sleep to wakefulness. I braced myself for the inevitable tensing of her body when her mind remembered where she was and who she was with.
Her body tensed briefly against mine. Here it comes.
But instead of pulling away, she relaxed and shifted closer, her body molding against my side as her hand settled on my chest, right over my heart. My pulse jumped beneath her palm, a betrayal of my surprise that she’d notice if she were paying attention.
“Do you ever actually sleep?” Annie murmured, eyes still closed, “Or do you just lie awake all night watching me like some beautiful, creepy statue?”
I froze, uncertain how to navigate this unexpected development. Annie wasn’t running. Wasn’t creating distance.
“I sleep,” I answered. “Just not much.”
Her fingers traced the lines of the tattoos that guided my suit. They briefly flared under her touch, the light chasing her finger tips and I shivered. “That’s not an answer to my question.”
“Fine. Yes, I watch you sleep.” No point in lying about something so obvious. “You’re fucking gorgeous when you’re not glaring at me or planning my murder. Though you’re also gorgeous when you are.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “Mmm. Debatable. On both counts.”
This felt like a trap. Annie willingly touching me, teasing me, without the protection of anger or the mask or the darkness.
“You’re still here,” I said, unable to keep the note of suspicion from my voice.
“Observant. They don’t call you a genius for nothing.”
My hand hovered over her hair, wanting to touch but wary of shattering this fragile moment. “Usually by now you’re halfway to the door, cursing my existence.”
Annie’s eyes finally opened, blue and clear and looking directly into mine.
She sat up suddenly, clutching the sheet to her chest, eyes wide. A blush crept up her neck.
There it is. The panic. Right on schedule.
“Oh god.” Her words began tumbling out in a rush. “Did you want me to go last night? Was I not supposed to stay? I didn’t even think—I just fell asleep and—“ She was already shifting away, one leg sliding toward the edge of the bed. “I’ll go now. I should go.”
A laugh burst out of me unexpectedly. I reached for her, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her back down against my chest.
“Yes, you were supposed to fucking stay,” I said, still laughing as I tucked her body against mine. “Christ, Annie. That’s not what I meant.”
She blinked up at me. “Then what—”
“I don’t understand why you didn’t try to bolt the second you woke up.”
Her body relaxed slightly against mine, though wariness remained in her eyes. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.” I tightened my grip on her, unwilling to let her escape now that I had her. “So forgive me for being suspicious when you woke up and decided to have a cuddle instead.”
Annie’s fingers resumed their exploration of my chest, tracing one of the tattoo lines that ran along my collarbone. “Maybe I was just comfortable.”
“Bullshit.” I caught her wandering hand, pressing it flat against my heart. “You’re never comfortable with me unless you’re wearing a mask or I’m inside you.”
Her pulse jumped, I could feel it where our wrists crossed. “That’s not—“
“It’s exactly true,” I cut her off, voice dropping lower. “But I’m not complaining. If you want to pretend this is normal for five minutes, I’ll take it.”
The morning light caught in her eyes, turning them to sapphire.
“That’s not true,” Annie said, her voice hardening with unexpected offense. “I’m comfortable with you.”
I raised a brow, scanning her face for the lie. “Since when?”
“Since...” She faltered, then squared her shoulders. “Maybe I just am. Would you prefer I act uncomfortable? Should I be climbing the walls to escape?”
“No,” I admitted, my thumb tracing the curve of her hip. “I prefer you exactly like this.”
“Then be quiet and let me enjoy being with you.”
My brain scrambled to recalibrate. Annie Bishop, willingly in my bed, admitting she enjoyed being with me. No mask. No anger. No excuses.
“Enjoy being with me?” I couldn’t help the smirk that spread across my face. “Careful, Sparks. That almost sounds like you like me.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I do like you.”
“Is that so?”
The challenge hung in the air for exactly two seconds before Annie lunged forward and sank her teeth into my pec.
“Fuck!” I jerked in surprise and laughed. “You vicious little thing.”
Annie pulled back. “Stop provoking me then.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” I traced my finger along her jawline, deliberately provocative. “Besides, you’re fucking magnificent when provoked.”
She struck again, this time catching the muscle between neck and shoulder, the sharp sting of her teeth made my already hardened cock twitch. My hand fisted in her hair automatically, holding her against me.
“So if I don’t provoke you,” I murmured, “you wouldn’t bite me? Seems like a poor trade-off.”
Annie released my flesh, replacing teeth with lips as she pressed a soft kiss to the spot she’d bitten. The tenderness of the gesture was more shocking than the bite had been.
“I might bite you anyway,” she whispered against my skin. “If you ask nicely.”
My brain short-circuited. This wasn’t the Annie who’d been in my bed before, the Annie that was all fury and need. This wasn’t the woman who kept her mask firmly in place, physically and emotionally.
She settled against my chest, her body warm and pliant, fingers tracing idle patterns on my skin like she had all the time in the world. Like she belonged here. Like this was normal.
I’d run simulations for a thousand different scenarios with Annie, most ending with her storming out, some with her trying to kill me, a few with her grudgingly admitting she couldn’t stay away. None of them included this casual intimacy or playful affection.
My arms tightened around her, possessive and confused and unwilling to question whatever the fuck was happening. If Annie wanted to pretend we were normal, that I hadn’t betrayed her, that she didn’t hate me, I’d play along until reality reasserted itself.
A sharp electronic trill shattered the moment. My alarm. Fuck.
“Goddammit.” I reached over Annie to silence the offending device, my body momentarily caging hers beneath me. The position gave me ideas that my schedule wouldn’t accommodate. “Fucking interviews.”
Annie’s hands slid up my chest as I hovered above her. “Interviews?”
“About the match yesterday.” I didn’t move away, savoring the press of her body beneath mine for a few seconds longer. “PR bullshit. Contractual obligations. Can’t miss them.”
The reality of my situation fucking sucked.
I hadn’t planned for Annie to stay. Hadn’t planned for her to be soft and warm and willing in my bed the morning after.
The interviews had seemed like a reasonable commitment when I’d assumed she’d be gone before dawn in another hit-and-run encounter that left me with the ghost of her scent on my sheets and nothing more.
But now? With Annie looking up at me with those clear blue eyes, her hair spread across my pillow like she belonged there? The interviews were a fucking catastrophe.
If I left, the spell would break and she’d leave. Whatever strange magic had kept her in my bed, kept her touching me without anger, would evaporate the moment I stepped out of this room.
“What time are they?” Annie asked, her fingers trailing down to trace the tattoo lines that followed the cut of my hip.
“First one’s at eleven.” I caught her wandering hand, pressing it flat against my abdomen. “Stop that unless you want me to be very fucking late.”
She smiled. “Havoc has interviews today too.”
“Shocking. Almost like we were in the same match.”
She pinched my side, a quick flash of pain that made me grin. “He gave me the day off. Said he could handle the PR circus himself.”