King's Ransom (Ruthless Doms 3)

We lay like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, the sheets knotted and twisted around us like spun cotton, and still we don’t let each other go. I can’t, and he won’t. Our stolen moment together needs to last as long as it can, because if we didn’t capture this, the uncertainty of what lies ahead could tear us apart. His phone rings, and he doesn’t move, lying his head on my chest.

“You should probably get that,” I say, running my fingers through his damp hair, but his eyes are closed and he’s breathing heavily. “Stefan? Are you sleeping?”

A corner of his lips twitches, and I know he isn’t.

“No, but whoever that is can wait a goddamn minute while I enjoy this time with my woman.”

I smile and bite my lip. His woman.

“It sucks we had to go through what we did to get here, though,” I muse. “I mean, all you had to do was knock on my door.”

I know he’s laughing when his shoulders shake.

“I wouldn’t have said no,” I continue. “Hell, I’d have given you anything you wanted.”

“You shouldn’t say that,” he says softly, but the pleasure in his voice mitigates any correction.

“Why not? It’s the truth,” I say, still weaving my fingers through his hair. His whiskers are rough on my bare chest, but his body is warm and cuddly, and this feels so right.

“Because it isn’t right for a girl like you to be with a man like me.”

“Since when do you worry about what’s right?” I tease, but he shakes his head to stop me.

“Don’t, Taara,” he says. “Since it affects you.”

“But if I hadn’t—”

“Shh, baby,” he says. “Let’s not question this. Let’s not wonder what’s happening or what will happen next. Let’s enjoy this little bit of peace, hmm?”

“Yeah,” I breathe, closing my eyes and drawing in a deep, ragged breath. This little bit of peace. But his phone rings a second time, and he curses under his breath. Pushing himself off me, he reaches for his phone and answers it.

“What?” he snaps. I give momentary thanks I’m not the one calling him. But as he listens, he sits up straighter on the bed, taking his warmth and whatever consolation that gave me with him. His brows are drawn together and his lips thin. “Do whatever the hell you need to,” he says. “And tell me as soon as you know anything.”

He hangs up the phone and drags his hand across his brow, exhaling. “San Diego’s gone dark,” he says. “All our contacts gone, the neutral men we had in position say it’s like they vanished overnight.”

“Vanished?” I shake my head. “How can that be? Don’t they have a large compound like yours?” I don’t know much about it except from what I once overheard Marissa say after a visit there.

He nods. “Vacated. No one knows where they went.” He pushes himself out of bed. “I’ve got some calls to make.” But before he does, he reaches out and strokes the back of his hand along my cheek. “You make this easier, you know,” he says so softly I barely hear him at first.

“What?” I whisper. “I make what easier?”

He bends down and brushes his lips to mine before he answers.

“Everything.”

I watch him in silence, drawing the blanket up over my shoulder and laying on my side. I like that I make everything easier for him, and the knowledge fills me with satisfaction. I don’t really know what will happen to us next. But he asked me for forgiveness, and hell I granted that. The road he walks is narrowed and treacherous, and the position we found ourselves in compromised us both. But we won’t let it change who we are, or the fact that two are better than one.

He gets dressed, and after a while I get up to take a shower. I catch bits of conversation as he makes call after call, and I can roughly gather that he’s confirming with his associates that San Diego has indeed gone dark.

“This is like one of those military things,” I tell him, as I slide on a pair of shoes. It’s getting close to time for dinner, and I know Stefan wants to go to a little restaurant near the wharf.

“Military things?” he asks. He’s tidying up our room and preparing our bags, since we leave first thing in the morning.

“Like a covert operation,” I mutter. “Like a stealth bomber or something.”

“Yeah,” he says.

“Those planes you can’t see, they fly overhead so they can’t be sighted before they attack, right?”

My backs to him, so I don’t know he’s come closer to me until he hugs me from behind.

“Exactly, baby.”

I swallow. I love the feel of him behind me, but I can tell he’s distracted and worried. “So how do you fight an invisible target?”