Page 75 of His Black Onyx

Chapter 37

Malia

I can't remember the last time I felt like this.

Comfortable. Safe. Complete.

Rested.

I slept through the night without waking up once. I dozed off quickly, hugged by soft sheets, the aftermath of the rope still pulsating on my skin, a smile on my face—and him lying next to me.

I've only known him to be rough and unyielding, doing what he deems right with little regard for my feelings, but he acted the complete opposite after our mutual climax.

He was gentle and cautious as he removed the rope, affectionate even. He asked whether I was in pain, and which knots he should untie first, before slowly removing the ties on my legs first. I sighed with relief when he carefully stretched my legs out, always observing the reactions on my face as he proceeded to massage my sore skin.

I felt satiated, happy and so, so dizzy. Once the rope was no longer hugging my body, I just lay there, my eyes absentmindedly latched onto a random spot on the ceiling above, my lips parted inhaling deep, calming breaths. I was afraid he'd ask me to get up right away, but he didn't.

In fact, he didn't ask anything of me. He just let me lie there, silently watching me as I processed the strange high I was experiencing.

I was floating, the sensation of the rope still reverberating through my body, still tickling my skin, even though it was no longer there.

And then I fell asleep.

I didn't even notice him covering me with the blanket, and I don't recall the last words we spoke before I drifted off into blackness.

All I know is that I slept. I slept well, very well.

And I'm still here, still in the same bed, and still with him.

I'm still drowsy, my eyes only half open when I turn to find him getting dressed next to the bed. His hair is ruffled and his eyes remain a bit heavy from sleep, giving him a boyish look that's so endearing it makes me smile.

How can he be so much at the same time? So cruel, so hard and adamant, yet so gentle and affectionate? And so incredibly sexy...

Fuck. I can't fall for this man. I can't. I… shouldn't.

Lailah warned me not to—and that's just one of a million reasons why I need to keep a clear head.

"Morning," he says, as he buttons up his shirt. "I didn't want to wake you, but we must go."

"Go?" I utter, drowsily sitting up and trying to fix my unruly hair. My black locks are hard to tame to begin with, but I know them to be an absolute mess in the morning. "Go where?"

"Downstairs. They're waiting for us."

"Waiting? Who?"

He grins when he sees me trying to tame the mess on my head.

"George and the others," he simply says. "There's news about the rendezvous."

I just reciprocate with a puzzled look, another question dancing on the tip of my tongue, but he shakes his head and juts his chin forward. "Come. We're late already."

I sigh, accepting the fact that I'm only fed with little pinches of information here and there. I should be used to it by now, but it still annoys the hell out of me.

He watches me get dressed, and it's the first time that I don't really mind. He has already seen more of me than any other man, so why even bother to ask for privacy? It's not as if he's willing to give it to me anyway.

We walk in silence as we make our way downstairs, heading straight to the door that leads to the office of the guy they call Big George. A rush of low key embarrassment washes over me once we step through the door and are met with more than half a dozen pairs of eyes, one of which belongs to Lailah. She is sitting in a large armchair, wrapped in a blanket, and the IV still hooked to her. She's the only one who casts me a weak smile when our eyes meet.

Daveed and Mike are there, too, and both of them squint at us in a way that leaves an uncomfortable sting. There's menace in their gazes, especially in Daveed's, as if they knew what happened last night and plan to hold it against us in some way. Both of these thoughts fill me with dread.

---