Page 106 of Brazen Deceits

I brush his hair off his face, staring into his bright green eyes. “Just be safe, okay?”

He nods, kissing first one palm, then the other, before hauling us both to our feet. “I’ll be safe.”

I pop onto my toes to press a kiss to his lips. “When I’m better, I expect some ‘thank you for saving my life’ sex. Just so you’re prepared.”

His eyes immediately darken, his hands settling on my hips. “But you’re not well enough yet?”

“Sadly, no.”

“Damn. I’ve got to keep safe then, with something like that to look forward to.”

I giggle, pushing him away. “Exactly. Now go. Otherwise, I’m just going to keep saying goodbye all night.”

“There are worse things,” he says, kissing me, but not pushing it. Sick is not sexy. It just isn’t.

He turns me toward the stairs and gives me a little slap on the ass. “Go. Fix RJ. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I glare at him, but he winks and leaves, totally ignoring my mock anger.

With a huff, I climb the stairs, pausing at the top. It wasn’t long ago that all these rooms were locked to me. Knocking on RJ’s door, I hear a muffled “come in,” so I do.

RJ’s wrapped in a blanket in front of his monitors, empty bottles of Gatorade and Mountain Dew strewn on one side of his desk, a wastebasket full of dirty tissues on the other side. Looking around for something to sit down on and failing, I go stand next to him.

His eyes are rimmed in red, bloodshot, and totally focused on his screen.

“Hello,” I say.

“Hi,” he answers, not taking his eyes from the screen, glancing from one browser window to another, then typing a handful of words.

“RJ?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s time to get some rest.”

He toggles through a few more windows. “Our security might have been breached. I need to make sure all our secrets are safe. I don’t want to go to jail. None of us belongs in jail.”

“RJ, if they already got in, they’ve been in for weeks at least. The damage is done. And if there isn’t a breach, improving the security doesn’t need to happen today.”

He blinks a few times, turning to me. “But if they got in through me, I could identify who it was. We could find them, figure out what they know, what kind of risk they present.”

“If they left crumbs, the crumbs will still be there tomorrow, RJ.” I press my hands to his face, his stubble coarse against my palms. “It can wait. You can’t. You need sleep. We need you well.Ineed you well.”

He tries to look back at the monitors, but I fight to keep him looking at me. “Now, RJ. You need to go to bed now.”

He rubs the back of his neck, the blanket falling from his shoulders into his lap, a shiver rippling through him, his T-shirt twisted. Slowly, he nods, turning his back to the monitors.

Just turning off the monitors, afraid to kill whatever programs he has running in the background, I walk him over to his bed, our fingers interlaced. He reaches for a small bottle, tossing some product in his hand and then working it into his hair, wrapping it, then falling back onto his mattress, tugging my hand and scooting over to make space for me to join him.

I tuck us both under his blanket, my head resting on his chest, his arms soft around me. I don’t say anything, and he doesn’t either, but I listen as his breathing slows, his body shedding the tension that he held while working.

Once I’m sure he’s asleep, I sit up, watching the rise and fall of his chest under the blankets, peace spreading with every breath. Finally, I slip out of the bed, tucking the blankets tight around him, his silk pillowcase glinting in the dim light of the room. After a quick tidying of his desk, I switch off the desk lamp and sneak out of the room, a bag full of recycling in my hand.

Turning toward the stairs, I bump into a bare chest.

Dropping the bag of recycling, my hands pop up by instinct, pressing against some of the prettiest pecs I’ve ever seen. Twists of inked smoke rise from Trips’ waist over his shoulders, hidden images caught in the haze. Having only seen the edges of the design peeking out from his T-shirts, I’m floored by the intricacy. Never mind the delicious muscles underneath it. It’s all I can do to look up at his face instead of drooling at what I have before me.

As soon as I manage it, though, all sexy thoughts flee. Glassy eyes look everywhere but at me, while my palms absorb the heat of his fever, a sheen of sweat covering his bare chest.

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