Page 15 of Bad Guys Need Love Too

The look Ren gave her was dangerously close to pity. “No. The assassin will have eyes on your house at all times. But I can get you anything you need. There’s plenty of stores close to here.”

The thought of Ren strolling the aisles at Target to buy her tampons, contact lens solution, and panties was horrifying. He must’ve read that in her expression, because he added, “Or I can have Tenley pick up stuff for you.”

There was no reason, none whatsoever, why she should feel a sharp stab of jealousy at the thought of other women in Ren’s life. But she did. Damn it. “Tenley?”

He nodded. “My friend. We work together sometimes.”

There was no lust or heat in his expression when he talked about Tenley. So, it stood to reason that she really was just a co-worker. She could ignore the annoying jealousy that was still licking at her skin.

Just like she could ignore how she had no idea what Ren actually did forwork.

But that was a problem for another day, because she was too tired to delve into allthatbefore she’d had a good night’s sleep. “Do you have a T-shirt or something I can sleep in tonight?”

Andthat’swhen the heat darkened his eyes. His friend Tenley didn’t turn him on, but there was something about her—or the idea of her in his T-shirt—that did. Had he felt the same spark of lust when they first met that she had?

“Yeah,” he said after a lengthy pause. “You can take my room. I’ll leave some clothes on the dresser. Oh, and I’ll change the sheets while you’re getting ready for bed. There’s a new toothbrush andsome contact solution in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom for you.”

Such an accommodating kidnapper. How lucky she was.

Lark hurried through her bedtime routine. A couple swipes of the toothbrush, a few splashes of water on her face, and a half-assed soap application and rinse, followed by tugging her hair into a messy bun and securing it with a rubber band she found in one of the vanity drawers. That was plenty for tonight.

When she wandered to the bedroom, bleary-eyed and tired all the way down to her soul, she nearly stumbled into Ren, who was busy tucking a new fitted sheet under the mattress. She wasn’t sure what looked better: a big, sexy man doing a basic household chore, or that big, sexy, pillow-top mattress of his.

Ren’s bedroom was the manliest bedroom Lark had ever seen in her life. Everything from the simple iron bed frame and sturdy-looking walnut dresser to the serviceable, plain black comforter lacked any kind of feminine touch. There wasn’t a single decorative item in the entire room. It all had a clear purpose. No more, no less.

Strangely enough, Lark liked that. She’d feel super weird about sleeping in his bed if Ren clearly shared the room with another woman.

Plus, it was super clean, which helped. Because while she didn’t want to sleep in a bed Ren shared with anyone else, shereallydidn’t want to sleep in a gross bachelor pad.

She’d probably be able to admire it more after a good night’s sleep, though.

Lark grabbed the black T-shirt, black boxers, and black sweatpants he’d laid out for her. She supposed she’d be rocking a goth aesthetic until she was able to get her hands on some new clothes. That was fine. The color (or lack thereof) suited her current mood.

“Thank you,” she muttered, crawling under the comforter. Maybe if she just sat there for a second, she’d eventually find the strength to change clothes.

“You’re welcome.”

“Ren?” she asked when he turned to go.

“Yeah?”

“Icantrust you, right?”

She wasn’t sure why she’d asked him that. It’s not like he couldn’t lie if he wanted to. She’d already decided she at least trusted him not to murder her. But something deep inside forced her to voice those words. For whatever reason, she needed to hear his answer. See his expression when he gave it to her.

He looked her right in the eye without a speck of shiftiness or hesitation and said, “You can. I’d do anything for you.”

If he wasn’t telling her the truth, she’d eat her shoe. That’s how sincere he looked and sounded. Thewhyhe felt that way about her, a complete stranger, was a mystery she’d have to save for another day.

“OK,” she whispered.

Ren gave her a quick nod, then gave Dammit George a sharp command before leaving.

The bed dipped under Dammit George’s considerable weight as he snuggled up against her side, facing the door, which Ren had pulled mostly closed behind him.

As she changed into Ren’s T-shirt (a shirt that smelled so heavenly—like laundry detergent and hot male skin—she was never going to return it to him), she thought back to her high school French classes, trying to figure out what command had earned her a nice, squishy bedmate.

Her head hit the pillow, and she started drifting off to sleep almost immediately. But not before she remembered the translation of the words Ren had said to the dog.

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