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“Oh, so you’re in my head now?”
Rolling over to face him, I traced my finger down his cheek. “Why don’t you tell me?”
Amusement painted his lips. “No way. There’s some information you don’t need access to.”
“Whatever, Bale.” I pulled the sheet tighter around me and yawned. “I can read you like a book.”
“Prove it.”
“Prove it how?”
He grabbed the middle of the sheet and dragged me against him. “Tell me what I’m thinking.”
I propped up on one elbow and peered down at him, my hair dusting across his chest. “You’re a complex man, Julian Bale. If you’d asked me two weeks ago, I’d have said you’re an enigma.”
He inched closer. “And now?”
“And now, you’re who you’ve always been.”
His voice dropped to a thick alto. “I’m afraid to ask.”
I placed my palm against his bare chest. “You’re the man I fell in love with in a hotel room in New York when you kissed my scars and called them beautiful.” Before I could speak again, he cradled the back of my head and brought my face against his in a purposeful kiss. I immediately responded, and for a moment, I completely lost myself in him. The simple touch of his lips against mine held enough power to make me drunk with desire.
His opposite hand ran down the length of my body, the blood already pumping through my veins. My rational side screamed at me to stop this. Too much had happened between us to jump back into bed together. There needed to be discussion…rebuilt trust.
I opened my eyes, and he slowly pushed my hair away from my face. I’d never seen his eyes as green as they were at that moment. He placed his calloused fingers, raw from too many hours strumming chords, against my cheek, his voice raspy and tortured.
“We’ll find her.” Enclosing me in his muscular arms, I snuggled in, content for the first time in what seemed like forever. He pushed his nose into my hair and inhaled.
“Do you think the broadcast worked?” I asked, thinking out loud.
“You have that fire in your eyes again, princess. He doesn’t stand a chance.” Pulling me tighter, he locked his arms and settled in. “Tomorrow, I’m getting you breakfast,” he said, his voice muffled by my hair. “You need to eat. You’ve lost too much weight.”
I smiled. He didn’t have to say he loved me. Those words said it all.
***
As the sun rose, I groggily opened my eyes. The night had passed too quickly and dawn stole time away from us. As I batted the light away from my eyes, I realized I was the happiest I’d been in months, and it wasn’t just the man lying beside me that evoked my peacefulness.
The rekindled closeness we’d shared last night tugged at my heart and filled me with powerful anticipation. He’d stood by me and beside me against the world. I no longer felt isolated from him. The storm had passed, and the strength I drew from him had returned.
He sighed in the middle of a dream. The lines in the deep corners of his mouth tilted in a smile and took my breath away. I held still, praying I wouldn’t wake him. I needed these last few minutes alone with him, lost in thoughts I’d struggled the last few days to find a way to express.
When they first appeared in the recesses of my mind, I’d tried to shake them away. But no matter what I did, they reappeared, never giving me a moment’s peace.
No more time remained. I’d run out of tomorrows.
Reaching over, I gently pressed my nose against his shoulder and inhaled. I could live a thousand years and never tire of smelling him. His was a scent that ensnared me in a vortex of crushing love, happiness, and lust. I silently wondered how he’d react when I told him I’d dreamt of Iris—that I’d seen in my mind where she slept, the arms that held her, and heard her cries.
Would he think I’d lost my mind?
The emotion playing across my face would be visible if he awoke right now. The thought lifted me up and terrified me at the same time. It prompted me to get dressed and head downstairs. No one was in the house. When Julian came home, he sent Jaxon to a hotel and Everson back to wherever he came from. But old habits were hard to break, and I was used to being fully presentable to a house full of strangers.
Hitting the steps midway, I heard scratching and what sounded like feet padding against pavement. I ran to the front door, and disregarding everything Jaxon taught me about personal safety, I tugged on it until it flung open. Tucked against the frame and the door sat a plain white envelope. No address, no name, no stamp.
I scanned the lawn for lingering paparazzi or officers. Nothing. It seemed the interview with Predator Confidential sent everyone packing.
My mind told me to call Jaxon and wait for the envelope to be dusted for fingerprints, but my hands already ripped into it, pulling out the simple white paper. The words were written in plain black ink. Nothing fancy, no script writing. Simple and to the point.
