Page 46 of The Sinner's Bargain

I hadn’t seen the other man in the doorway until he stepped into the room, still fully dressed in cargo pants and a black t-shirt. Like Lacroix, his arms were a road map of colors as he reached over the lampshade and tapped the bulb.

It came on with a flicker and flicked out just as quickly.

“Bulb’s loose.”

He gave it a twist and it flared on and stayed on, highlighting the sharp lines of his face, the deep blue of his eyes.

Embarrassed, I faced the two watching me. Their expressions didn’t seem annoyed, but they had to be.

“I thought ... I was so sure ... I’m sorry for waking you.”

Lacroix swept a hand back through his hair and I caught the winding spiral of vines and roses painted up his forearm.

Five roses in vivid crimson.

“Go back to bed, Little Blue,” he muttered, already turning away, giving me a full glimpse of his back and the continued swirl of art. They flexed with his movements to the door. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I looked away only to get caught by the other man, his expression knowing. Amused.

Mortified at getting caught twice in the span of minutes, I immediately dropped my gaze to the floor until the door closed behind them.

I didn’t get back into bed right away. I stood on the spot and studied the room. I didn’t know it very well so I couldn’t tell if anything was different or moved. It all seemed normal.

Cautiously, I stepped to the other side of the bed and searched the area. I stepped on several of the boards to recreate the noise but none of them creaked.

Maybe I had imagined it.

Maybe it was just the house making noises.

I was so used to my house ... my parent’s house and its familiar sounds, it was natural to get spooked by a new place.

That was what I told myself as I climbed into bed once more, leaving all the lights on.

But sleep didn’t come quite so easily the second time.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

THORAN

“I’m sorry again about last night.”

I looked up to where she sat on the sofa with her book in her lap.

I’d given her a dress shirt to wear. I regretted that decision the second she left her room. Hair damp. Face flushed and glowing from the shower. It was longer, which theoretically should have been less distracting. Instead, I was tormented by the dusky outline of her nipples through the white fabric. They were painfully visible with the morning overcast slipping pale fingers through the window to turn the fabric practically transparent.

---