Page 64 of The Encore’s Crown

“I hate you,” I whisper.

“You're welcome.”

His smile finally appears, the real one I saw when he was unloading the luggage. Tired and warm and so perfectly him that my chest aches. I weakly lift a hand to cup his jaw.

“You could've been hurt.” Tears sting my eyes, and one escapes before I can shut it down. Everything inside me blurs together, too much and all at once. Whatever wall I usually keep between myself and everything underneath is gone, and he’s the reason. The smile fades as his hand comes up and closes gently around my wrist.

“I'm okay, Nat. See? I'm fine.”

He takes my hand and presses it to his chest, letting me feel the hard, frantic beat. I curl into him as his arm closes around my waist, and little by little, the panic loosens its grip. Tomorrow is still waiting. The flight. The distance. Every stupid, reckless thing he might throw himself into when I’m not there to stop him. Every excuse he might use to disappear from me again.

But his heart is beating beneath my ear, and for once, he isn’t pulling away.

Tomorrow can be a problem when it gets here.

Tonight, neither of us is going anywhere.

Chapter 27

Countdown

Natalia

Iwake slowly, warm and trapped beneath the weight of Kiri’s arm. At first, I forget where I am. Then I feel his chest against my back, the steady breath warming my shoulder, and one very solid part of him pressed along me beneath the tangled sheets.

Oh. Right.

My body remembers exactly where I am. Heat stirs between my thighs. It seems one devastating orgasm and several hours of sleep have done nothing to make my body reasonable. Kiri's still asleep. I can tell by the way his face is buried against the back of my neck and how completely relaxed his arm feels around my waist. I inch backward, slowly enough to pretend it’s accidental. His breathing changes, which is just enough encouragement to do it again, so I do. This time, his arm tightens around me, pulling me against him.

“Kiri?” I whisper.

No response. He’s either asleep or he has far more self-control than any man should be allowed. I roll my hips one more time before I slowly run my hand along the unfair curve of his V-line, but when I'm finally about to reach what I'm seeking, his hand closes over mine.

“That's an interesting way to say good morning,” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.

I smile into the pillow. “You’re awake, I guess.”

“I am now.”

He pulls my hand away from its destination and traps it against my stomach. I turn in his arms, which takes some effort because he is enormous and determined to remain attached to me at all angles. His eyes are barely open and his hair is unrecognizable. I check for any bald spots I might have caused, but he looks like he's marked safe from my orgasmic death grip. He still looks ridiculous. Unfortunately, he also looks beautiful. I lean in and kiss the corner of his mouth. He kisses me back automatically, slow and warm, then seems to remember what I was trying to do and pulls away. I pout, visibly.

His eyes narrow. “That face won't work on me.”

“What face?”

“The same one that's probably gotten you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

“Obviously not everything.”

His mouth twitches. I slide my hand down his chest, pushing my luck, but he catches it again.

“Is this your idea of torture? Why do you keep stopping me?”

“Because.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“It’s the answer you’re getting.”