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There was something almost automatic in his tone, as if he thought it was expected of him. I considered telling him no, but the prospect of sleeping against his warm, hard body was too enticing. I nodded and he went to turn on the shower, stepping beneath the hot spray.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” he said.
I watched him for a moment longer, admiring the fine lines of his muscled body. His shoulders were broad and his back sloped down to his slender hips and corded thighs. As I explored him with my eyes, warmth tingling through me, partly from the sight and partly the aftershocks of what we’d done, I noticed he wasn’t completely perfect as I’d initially thought. There was a mark on his right calf, a purplish scar, that looked almost like a symbol. I wanted to draw closer, but he sent me an intense stare when he noticed me looking and I flushed, ducking from the bathroom.
When he joined me in the bed, I followed his movements, hoping to get another glimpse of his calf. He turned out the light and moved up behind me, one thick arm draping over my waist, his fingertips just brushing my pussy. He smelled of shampoo and men’s soap and his breath was hot on the back of my neck; the combination was heavenly.
“It’s a brand,” he said, his voice muffled.
“What?”
“The mark on my leg. It’s a brand.”
“A…brand? Who branded you?” I whispered.
“That’s a story for another day,” he murmured. “Right now, I just had an orgasm and hot shower, so I’m ready to pass out. Goodnight, princess.”
Chapter Six
The moment I opened my eyes I felt the empty space he’d left in my bed. I rolled over and found the place where he’d slept rumpled and devoid of warmth. The memory of last night hung over me and filled me with confusion and lingering warmth. How had he done it? How had I woken up angry and resentful with him and ended the day surrendered and tangled in his arms? Somewhere along the way, amid the lingerie and the dinner, he’d managed to weaken my walls enough to get his hands on me.
I rose from the bed and went to the shower, standing beneath the hot water and letting it soak my hair. Then I went out to the large closet where someone had unpacked my clothes and hung them up.
I went for a plain pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with a set of strappy sandals and a gold necklace. There was a rack of fine jewelry that I hadn’t picked out yesterday so I had to assume Duran was behind it.
I fixed my hair and makeup and left the bedroom in search of something to eat. The hall was empty and cool, a faint smell of bacon lingering from the kitchen. I moved down the spiral stairs, my sandals slapping on the floor, and entered the front hallway. The door to the living room was ajar and Duran stood just inside, his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. I hung back, keeping still so as not to disturb him, and backed up from the door.
Before I got more than a few feet, Lucien stepped into view, his back to me. He wore a crisp gray suit with a burgundy tie and he looked just as terrifying as he had the other day.
“What do you intend to do with her?” Lucien said, his voice low.
“I don’t know, I didn’t realize Edgar was about to become a target,” Duran said. There was a faint note of anxiety in his tone. “You could have told me sooner. It’s fucking bad timing.”
My breath hitched and I dug my nails into my palms, a wave of anxiety passing through me. What did my father have to do with any of this? Why did it sound like he might be in over his head?
“Well, it’s not like I knew you were going to shack up with his daughter,” said Lucien. “We had this planned for months, but it isn’t your concern normally, so I didn’t bother telling you.”
“I’m not shacking up.”
“Well, what are you doing?” Lucien’s voice was colder and almost irritated now. “You knew who she was when you fucked her the first time and you still chose to do it. And what the hell were you thinking, bringing her back here just because she saw your laptop? You’d have been better off taking her back and letting her father deal with her nosiness.”
Duran stepped into view, his chest rising and falling rapidly under his shirt. There was a hint of darkness in his gaze, bubbling in the depths of those black eyes. Lucien was like an icy winter and Duran was a thunderstorm brewing hot and thick over the horizon. I much preferred the storm, despite its unpredictability, to the cold impenetrability of Lucien’s steel gaze.
“I haven’t fucked her,” Duran corrected. “And I don’t know…maybe I’ll talk to her father when all this is over. Her family is respectable and it would strengthen inner ties.”
“I never thought I’d live to see Duran Esposito consider settling down,” Lucien said. “Much less with a girl like that.”
“A girl like what?” Duran snarled. “And I never said I was seriously considering anything.”
“Easy, it’s not an insult,” Lucien said, unruffled. “She’s just not your type. I thought you liked the stupid, submissive types that are just dying to be trophy wives. Didn’t you say they afforded you the best chance of being able to fuck around with other women?”
Duran ran a hand through his hair, the dark waves falling over his forehead. He glanced down at the polished floor and then back up at his brother, shifting his stance as if something embarrassed him.
“What?” Lucien said.
“I don’t think I’d fuck around with other women if I had Iris,” he said slowly.
“Color me shocked.”
