He ambles toward the side of the bed I’m not occupying, removing his T-shirt as he does.
Oh, mama. He’s half naked.
“I hope you don’t mind,” he says as he discards the T-shirt, then the sweatpants on the floor beside the nightstand. “I get too hot. I can’t sleep in sweats.”
I swallow hard and do my damndest to keep my voice level, wanting, but not wanting to stare at him in only his black boxers. “Same here.”
“Good.” He grins as he slides into bed.
Thump, thump, thumpy, thump, thump. My heart can’t beat any faster.
“Thanks for offering to share, I’ll sleep better than I would have.” He reaches to turn off the lamp.
He thinks he’ll sleep? Yep, I definitely do not understand men.
“No problem, it just made sense.”
He lays back, adjusting the covers so his bare chest is still visible. “Well, good night.”
“Good night, Harpoc.” Despite my heart still surging, I switch off my lamp and nestle into the covers.
Ain’t no way I’m sleeping a wink.
_______
I jolt awake. Arms hug my waist, and my heart accelerates in an instant.
I squirm, but the hold grows tighter.
“You move a lot,” Harpoc mumbles in my ear.
Harpoc. I exhale. He’s spooned himself around me, and I’m his human teddy bear. My heart accelerates.
All that excitement dealing with Zephyr must have worn me out because somehow I fall asleep. And not just asleep, but dead asleep if he’s holding me thusly.
Harpoc doesn’t apologize, just keeps holding me against his nearly bare body, and a conga line starts in my stomach.
For once, I don’t try to figure anything out. I’m going to go with the flow and see where it takes me.
Now there’s a novel idea, Pell. Try, try again. You might actually get good at it.
I’m not awake enough to deal with my inner voice, not without coffee, and I don’t reply. Instead, I lean back into Harpoc’s chest and enjoy the feel of him.
The doorbell’s ring disturbs our coziness. “Who?”
“I scheduled coffee. I dislike the taste of room coffee. You might want to hide under the covers.”
I enjoy the sight as he slips out of bed and into his sweats, then heads to answer the door.
I take his advice and bide my time until the steward leaves again.
“Coast is clear.” He laughs.
He hands me a cup of java once I’ve leaned back in the pillows again.
“I could get used to this treatment,” I say, taking a sip.
Harpoc sets his cup on his nightstand and situates himself atop the covers.
“OMG, this coffee is so good, I might have an orgasm.” I inhale sharply, horrified.
Brilliant choice of words, Pell, because you’re so experienced with orgasms.
Harpoc guffaws. I’m guessing he’s experienced at least one, firsthand, from his reaction.
I scrunch up my face. “I’m sorry, I’m not awake. I can’t be held responsible, I’m liable to say about anything.” I clear my throat.
He partakes of the black gold and grins as he lowers the cup back to his lap.
This stuff is seriously the best coffee I’ve ever tasted.
“An orgasm, huh?”
My faces burns, and I cover it with my free hand. I want to burrow under the covers and never come up.
You’ll spill your orgasm-inducing coffee if you do, Pell.
I roll my eyes at my inner voice.
A minute of silence elapses, and I finally summon the courage to look back at my sexy companion.
His expression is serious, and I furrow my brows.
“We need to make a detour before we deal with Midas.” The words come out of the blue and remind me there’s a point to why we spent the night together.
With that expression, I’m almost afraid to ask, but I do. “What kind of detour?”
“The kind you’ll need to trust me implicitly.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
My stomach lurches. Has there been a point to him insisting I trust him? I thought he was just being overbearing, but I’m questioning in this moment.
I swallow hard, running my free hand across the soft, white bedding.
“When we get there, I’ll refer to you as Rose, for your safety.”
I give him a long look. He knew my first name, of course he knows my last, but he’s giving me an alias. I bite my lip.
“You’ll refer to me as King of Roses.”
I do a double take. “Wait, are you calling yourself my king?”
He doesn’t reply, and I roll my eyes. Of course, he doesn’t respond.
“Harpoc, where are you taking me?” I’d wanted to go with the flow, but this feels… bigger… scarier.
“You’ll see soon enough. Get dressed and let’s get going.”
I drain my cup before surreptitiously sliding out of bed and crouching beside it so he can’t see my undies.
Some of his humor is back because he wags his brows as I snatch my sweatpants off the floor and fumble to put them on.
Like he’s never seen sexy panties before, Pell.
He hasn’t seen “mine,” I insist to myself as I head for the bathroom.
He’s back in his impeccable gray leather duster and vest and I’m in an again-clean jacket and cargo pants thanks to Harpoc’s domestic skills as we walk out of the hotel several minutes later and head down the drive to where we first arrived.
“Are we flying or tripping?” I ask, afraid of the answer as we head for the seclusion of the bushes.
A corner of his mouth hitches. “Tripping? What are we, overdosing on psychedelic drugs?
I snicker. I hadn’t thought about that.
“That’s tripskipping, and yes.”
“You’re a sadist.” I’d started enjoying having his arms cradle me in flight.
“Can’t have you relaxing too much, it dulls the senses.”
I
