Buttons and Blame (Buttons 5)

“What kind of disasters do you face?” I asked.

He took a long drink of his scotch. “People who think they can undercut us or overrun us. Stuff like that.”

I nodded even though I didn’t understand at all. “What time do you want to leave?”

“First thing in the morning. I want to beat the tourists.” He grabbed the remote and turned off the TV. “Let’s go to bed.”

I followed him upstairs and entered the bedroom. It was a cool night, so Cane kneeled down and got a fire going in the hearth. He didn’t have a TV in his bedroom, but most of the other rooms had them. All of my things were stored in my bedroom down the hall, but I just assumed he wanted me beside him. I hadn’t been screwing him for the past few nights, but he expected me to sleep with him.

I changed out of my clothes and pulled on one of his cotton t-shirts from the drawer. I’d probably just take this off anyway, but at least I had one picked out. I pulled back the covers and got into bed.

Cane washed his hands in the bathroom before he returned. He turned off all the lights so only the crackling fire brought illumination into the room. The heat slowly filled the bedroom, reaching the four corners and chasing away the chill.

He stripped off his clothes, dropping his boxers along with everything else, and then got into bed. The light from the flames licked his skin, highlighting the definition of his arms and shoulders.

He got comfortable beside me but didn’t smother me with his masculine affection. His powerful arms didn’t form a steel cage around my body. He didn’t heat my side of the bed with his personal heating system.

I stared at him with the sheets pulled to my shoulders, wondering what he was thinking. His chiseled jaw was set firmly in place, and his green eyes didn’t give anything away. He stared at me without blinking, his dark hair repositioning as he lay on the pillow.

It didn’t seem like he was tired, judging by the pointed stare directed my way. But he didn’t start a conversation or touch me. He just stayed put.

I knew this had something to do with our trip to South Carolina. He assumed I wasn’t ready, was too much emotional to feel an ache between my legs. The restraint spoke to his kindness. I could be bleeding, but Tristan didn’t care about my feelings. He took what he wanted like he’d owned me my entire life. But Cane gave me power the second I was in his captivity. I could do whatever I wanted—and we both knew it. I didn’t even have to sleep with him, and he wouldn’t send me back.

I was a very lucky woman.

Cane sold illegal weapons to clients, had a secret power over Italy. He and his brother were mixed up with the craziest characters, men who were so evil the police couldn’t even retaliate. I’d seen that kind of barbaric cruelty, had been at the hands of it myself. Now that I knew what evil looked like, I didn’t recognize it in Cane.

Not at all.

He was my friend, my confidant. He was my safe place. I knew I would think of him when Tristan had his hands around my neck. When things got really rough, I would think about the way Cane would look at me—just like this.

And when I took those pills, I would think of him until the darkness came for me.

When I thought of the future, it dragged me down like a weight tied to my ankle. I still had a few weeks before I had to think of that terror, so I put it out ofmy mind. Right now, I was in a comfortable bed with a roaring fire—and a handsome man was staring at me.

A handsome man who wanted me.

I scooted closer to him under the sheets and pressed my mouth lightly to his. The second our lips touched, I felt the shivers run all over my body. His lips were soft and full, and the hair around his mouth gently scraped against my skin. I liked feeling that hair, feeling the masculine shadow that was prevalent on his face every morning.

My hand moved to his chest, and I explored his muscularity, feeling the way each muscle combined with the next one. His skin was soft, but underneath that gentleness was concrete. My fingertips loved feeling his strength because it made me feel safe. Cane was my personal gate, my personal protection against anything that could hurt me. For the next couple weeks, every single hair on my head was safe. No one could touch me, could get past this powerful man.

Once he felt my kiss, he moved his hand around my waist and felt the soft skin of my back. He explored the deep curve in the area between my shoulder blades. Sometimes his fingers felt my hair as it trailed down my back.