How much am I supposed to give him? I don’t want to fuck him up, he just needs to sleep for a bit.
After pouring half the contents, I give the whiskey a little stir with my finger and consciously donotlick it clean.
I don’t need to pass out with him.
He returns milliseconds later with a washcloth in his hand. “Sorry for the wait, I had to let the water warm up. Spread your pretty legs, Savage.”
I reach for the cloth, but he holds it up where I can’t grab it.
“I’ll do it,” I tell him.
“Iwill do it. It’s my mess.”
With a laugh, I shake my head and grab the cloth out of his hand. “Drink your whiskey while I do this. I like your place. It suits you.”
He lifts his glass and gulps the rest of his drink before setting the glass aside. “What does that mean?”
“It’s rich, masculine.” His lips twitch. “A little intimidating.”
“Do I intimidate you?”
I’ve finished with the cloth, so he takes it and tosses it over his shoulder, then urges me onto my back and hovers over me,propped on his side, his head resting on one hand, and his other hand brushing through my hair.
Ilovehaving my hair played with. I always have. And no one’s done it in ... seven years.
“I think you probably like to intimidate everyone.”
He doesn’t deny that statement, he just smirks.
I can see from this close, in this low light, that his brown eyes are flecked with gold, and there’s a thin scar that bisects his lower lip, just right of center.
“What happened?” I brush my finger over the scar, and he sucks my digit into his mouth, biting playfully.
“Who remembers?” He leans in and presses kisses to my cheek, my nose, and then my lips.
Shouldn’t he be getting tired already?
I like him too much to lie in his bed with him, as if nothing at all is going on, when I plan to go through all his shit to find out if he knows where Rose is.
I’m an excellent liar, but I don’tenjoy it.
Finally, it looks like his eyes are getting heavy.
“You’re tired.”
He frowns, and then his arm gives out and his head falls to the pillow.
“You wore me out, Savage.”
I chuckle and reach over to drag my fingertip down the bridge of his nose. This is the last time I’ll see him like this, and I want to soak it up for just one more minute.
“Thanks for tonight,” I whisper, and he hums, his eyes no longer able to stay open, and I wait a few more minutes after he starts to breathe deeply, just to make sure he’s truly asleep.
Then, I push out of the bed and hurry into my clothes, shove the plastic bag into my purse, and start to snoop.
Do I know what I’m looking for? Absolutely not. But I have totry. Maybe there’s mention of Damien or my sister or human trafficking or something.
Something.