WARNING: There will be MAJOR spoilers if you haven’t read Luck of the Devil!

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“So, you’ll come to bed with me?” James asked. He was sitting on his sofa, looking paler than he had an hour earlier.

“Yes,” I said, “if for no other reason than to get you there. You need to rest.”

A smug grin spread across his face.

“Don’t get too cocky.”

He stood, then hesitated, as though trying to regain his balance.

I hurried over and grabbed his arm to steady him. I fully expected him to tell me he didn’t need assistance, but he gave me a grim look.

“You need a week of rest,” I said, worry burrowing in my gut. I didn’t think we had a week before Nicole or Gerry Knox came looking to settle the score.

“We’ll see about that,” he grunted before lightly shaking off my hand and heading down the hall.

I turned off the lights, leaving a living room lamp on, then followed, suddenly anxious. 

My stomach twisted in knots at the thought of sleeping in the same bed with him, but I was being ridiculous. For one thing, the man had a serious concussion. The slow, purposeful steps he’s taking was proof enough of that. James Malcolm might have been a careful man, but he exuded confidence and strength. He was still strong and confident, but there was a vulnerability that came with his injury, and it wasn’t lost on me that he was letting me see it. He could have told me to go, or made me sleep in the guest room, but he insisted that I not only come to his room but sleep in his bed.

I knew he was in no shape to do anything other than sleep, and even then, I knew I’d need to wake him up every few hours to make sure he knew his name and who the president was. He’d taken care of me—twice—and while no one ever accused me of being a natural caregiver, I had an urge to take care of him.

That feeling caught me off guard as I stood in his doorway watching him make his way to his bed in the darkened room to sit on the edge.

I walked to the nightstand and turned on the lamp.  A soft warm glow filled the room, letting me get a look at his personal space.

The room was larger than I expected, large enough for a king-size bed, two nightstands and a small sitting area, without the room feeling crowded. The walls were a rich dark brown.  Wooden blinds filled a large window opposite the bed, with a brown leather loveseat in front of it. The bed had a tall, rustic wooden headboard, with a brown, tan, and cream quilt, and four fluffy pillows. There weren’t any throw pillows, not that I was surprised. He didn’t seem like a throw pillow kind of guy, and honestly, I was somewhat surprised he’d not only made the bed but had done it so neatly. A partially closed door to a bathroom was on the opposite side of the room.

James closed his eyes as though trying to find the strength to complete the task of getting in bed. 

“Havin’ second thoughts?” he asked, his voice rough.

“You’ll have to be more specific,” I said with a short laugh. “There were plenty of things over the past few days that have given me second thoughts.”

His eyes opened to slits and he started to say something, then stopped.

I took a couple of steps closer to him. “If you’re asking if I’m having second thoughts about being here with you, right now, then no. Maybe I should, hell, I know I should, but I don’t.”

But that didn’t mean I wasn’t nervous.

That was a first for me. While I hadn’t slept around, I’d never been nervous about any of the handful of men I’d slept with. Things in our relationships—if some of them could be called that—had progressed to a point that it was either have sex or break up. Having sex had been a practical decision.

But there wasn’t a single damn thing that was practical about being with James Malcolm.

I was playing with fire, and it turned out I was a pyromaniac.

I knelt in front of him, and he gave me a wary look, but I picked up his foot and slipped off his boot, then took off the other, leaving his socks on.

“Don’t worry,” I said with a wry grin. “I won’t take advantage of you in your vulnerable state.”

He laughed, a genuine laugh, then winced. “Maybe I want you to take advantage of me.”

His words sent a sharp stab of desire to my groin, but I looked up at him and shook my head. “Not tonight.”

“Gonna play hard to get?” But despite his grin, the lines on his face told me he was in pain and in no mood for fooling around.

“Let’s get your clothes off and get you into bed,” I said. I glanced at the love seat in front of a picture window that undoubtedly looked into the woods behind the house. “I’ll sleep over there and keep an eye on you.”

He didn’t respond, not even when I grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and lifted it over his head, taking care not to brush it against his stitches. He needed a shower, but that wasn’t happening tonight. The doctor had washed his face and neck, and I’d gotten James another washcloth to get the dirt off his hands and exposed arms, but I knew it wasn’t enough. I tossed the shirt onto the floor, trying to ignore the hard muscles my innocent act of removing his shirt had exposed, as well as an intricate tree tattoo covering the left side of his chest.

I took a breath to settle my nerves then reached for the button of his jeans, easily getting it unfastened.

“Lie down,” I said softly, cradling his arm so he could ease down sideways on the bed. As my hand touched the bare skin of his muscular shoulder, it took everything in me not to let my hand travel down to explore the hard lines of his pecs and abdomen. A tingle raced from my fingertips to places it shouldn’t. Not with him in this state.

Hell, I hadn’t even gotten his pants off yet.

Once he was flat on the bed, I undid his zipper, then grabbed his jeans at the waist and tugged them over his hips. It took everything in me to keep my gaze from taking in his navy boxer briefs and the bulge underneath.

Once I had his jeans off, I tossed them onto the floor with the shirt.

“Do you sleep with your socks on or off?”

He released a grunt of disgust. “I’m insulted you even asked.”

“Fair enough,” I said with a nervous laugh, then dropped in front of him and tugged them off, adding them to the pile on the floor. “What side do you sleep on?”

“The side closest to the door,” he said, his eyes still closed. “There’s a loaded gun in the top drawer of the nightstand.”

Neither statement surprised me.

I moved the pillows to the side and pulled the covers down as far as I could, given he was lying in the middle of the bed. “Can you turn and scooch up?”

“I’m not paralyzed,” he grunted, already sliding sideways, but the set of his jaw made it clear it wasn’t easy for him.

Once his lower body had shifted enough, I tugged the covers down the rest of the way. He shimmied up the bed until his head was near the top. I gently lifted his head and placed the pillows underneath, keeping him slightly upright. Then I pulled the covers up, my gaze drifting to the bulge in his briefs before I covered him.

My groin throbbed with a need I’d never felt, and I didn’t know what to do with. It felt wrong to be so turned on when he was so vulnerable, but there was no denying he was every woman’s fantasy. I needed a moment—or twenty—to get myself together.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

His eyes cracked into slits and I could see even that had been an effort. “You’re sleepin’ in my bed.”

I was surprised at how badly I wanted to be in his bed, but these lustful thoughts were going to keep me awake all night if his body was that close.

I took a page from his book and didn’t answer, instead, I headed for the door to go to the guest bathroom.

“Use my shower,” he said forcefully enough to stop me in my tracks.

“I’m not leaving. I’m just going to get clean.”

“In my bathroom. There’s shampoo and conditioner you can use.”

A streak of jealousy burned my chest. How many other women had been here in his bathroom? In his bed?

“Take your shower and come back so I can go to sleep,” he said, his voice strained.

“James, you can go to sleep before I get back.”

“No. I need to know you’re here and safe.”

Maybe that was why he wanted me to shower in his ensuite, so he could hear the water and know I was there. His admission that he wanted to know I was safe filled my chest with anxiety. I knew he wanted to sleep with me, but that still didn’t mean he cared about me as a person.

Bullshit. You’ve spent your entire life lying to yourself about everything, but you can’t lie about this.

No, I couldn’t lie. James had proven multiple times, and in multiple ways, that he cared about me. It was just hard to believe that someone like him would. James was supposed to be a bad-ass crime boss who didn’t give a shit about anyone. But there was no denying the notorious James Malcolm had proven he cared about me more times in the past month than Keith ever had—professionally or otherwise.

So… why the fuck did James care about me?

“It’s just a shower,” he said, obviously thinking I was debating which bathroom to use. “The shower heads in my bathroom are infinitely better than the guest bath.”

“Shower heads,” I said in a teasing tone, hoping to hide my angst. “As in plural? You should have said so from the beginning.”

I headed to the bathroom, leaving the door cracked, not only so he could hear the water, but so I could hear him if he called for me.

The natural stone shower was large and, as promised, had multiple shower heads including a rainfall head from the ceiling and body sprays in the wall. I turned on the water then stripped off my dirty clothes. I caught my reflection in the mirror over the double vanity, shocked to see flecks of blood on my jeans and the bare skin of my arm. My face was filthy, my hair wild. I hardly recognized myself. I was me, but different. There was a ruthlessness in my eyes that hadn’t been there before. Then again, I supposed I couldn’t have done what I’d done tonight without being ruthless.

Once my clothes were off, I grabbed a big, fluffy towel from a cabinet as well as shampoo and conditioner. I hung the towel on a hook next to the glass shower door, then got in.

The hot water hit my body, and I turned my face up to the stream, letting it sluice off me. Visions of the men I’d killed tonight filled my head. A sob bubbled up in my chest, but I quickly shut it down.

I’d done what I needed to do. I refused to feel guilty about it, and I damn sure refused to cry.

I quickly washed my hair and body, scrubbing my skin three times to make sure I was clean, then I gave myself a few extra minutes to soak in the warm water before I got out.

As I dried off with the towel, I realized I didn’t have any clean clothes. They’d been in James’s car, and what I hadn’t used to start the fires was gone after the explosion.

James’s closet was attached to the bathroom, so I found a T-shirt in one of the many drawers and tugged it over my head. I had to fight the urge to explore his space and learn more about him, but if he was really staying awake until I came to bed, then I needed to wrap this up.

I left a light in the bathroom, then cracked the door behind me as I walked into the bedroom, silently berating myself for leaving the bedside lamp on. James’s eyes were closed as I walked around the foot of the bed, but I caught him peek at me as I approached the nightstand.

“You’re sleepin’ in here,” he growled.

The vibration of his voice struck me like a tuning fork, sending to my core. “Calm down,” I forced out. “I’m turning off the lamp.”

I flicked it off, plunging the room into semi-darkness, a sliver of light still coming from the bathroom.

Once I got to my side of the bed, I lifted the covers and slid in, being careful to stay close to my side of the bed, but I immediately felt the mattress dip as he rolled toward me.

“What are you doin’ all the way over there?”

“You need to sleep, James,” I said, sounding as tired as I suddenly felt.

“I intend to.” His hand rested on my arm and he tugged me closer. He lay on his left side, I flat on my back, our bodies not touching, but I could feel his heat.

“That’s better.”

I couldn’t stop a short laugh. “Will you go to sleep now?”

“Yes.”

His breathing became slow and shallow within a minute, but I lay there for nearly a half hour, reliving the nightmare of the night, wondering how we were going to take care of Nicole and her son. They were sure to have an army at their command, and we had a few hired guns. But if anyone could come up with a plan, I was confident it was James.

***

I woke up to the sound of sobbing and James murmuring in my ear, “It’s okay. It’s only a dream.”

It was then I realized I was the one who was crying, gut-wrenching sobs that shook my entire body. I was on my back with his arm draped across my chest, cupping my left arm. I rolled toward him and his hand lifted to the back of my head, pressing my forehead to his chest.

“You’re safe,” he said. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

To my horror, I sobbed even harder, as though the emotions and fear from the past few days, hell, the past months, were violently purging themselves from my body. But it only took a few seconds to remember that James was supposed to be sleeping off his concussion, and that I was in James Malcolm’s bed wearing only a T-shirt and no panties.

I tried to pull back, but he held me close.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” I said. “You need to sleep.”

“Harper,” he said my name reverently. “It’s okay.”

“No. It’s not.” I shook my head, trying to pull away again, equally embarrassed and horrified.

“When was the last time you cried?” he asked softly.

“Last night,” I said without having to think about it.

“That was one or two tears.” His voice was like a warm blanket, wrapping around me and making me feel safe. “When was the last time you had a good cry?”

That gave me pause. “I don’t know.”

His hand slowly moved from the back of my head to tip my chin. I could make out his face from the glow of the bathroom light.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” I said.

“You’ve got a good dozen reasons to cry.” He sounded more awake and alert than he had when I’d helped him to bed. “Your mother’s murder for starters. What happened last night.”

What happened last night.

My dreams popped into my head. I’d been dreaming about it, reliving those men’s murders over and over, as though on a loop.

“Ahh,” he said in a satisfied tone. “That’s the one.”  

I wondered how he’d known, but I realized my body had tensed. His hand slid up and down my arm in a soothing motion.

“I’m not sorry I killed them.”

“You shouldn’t be,” he said, the timbre of his voice making it clear the discussion wasn’t up for debate. “You had no choice.”

“I know.” Only I hadn’t meant to sound so defeated.

“But knowin’ you had no choice doesn’t make it any easier.”

I didn’t answer. We both knew he was right.

He tipped my chin up higher, his face searching mine.

“You need to go back to sleep,” I whispered.

“I’m not sleepy anymore.” His thumb brushed along my bottom lip, sending a shiver down my spine.

“You need to rest, James. You have a concussion.”

“My head barely hurts. I’ve practically slept it off.”

“Concussions don’t work like that.”

“Then maybe you can help me get sleepy again.” His face slowly closed the distance between us. His lips pressed to mine.

I released a sigh of contentment, surprised at how right it felt. His mouth swallowed the sound as his tongue found mine. He slipped his hand up to my cheek, his kiss deepening, but it wasn’t the frenzy of our first kiss. This had a gentleness I hadn’t expected.

I kissed him back, slow, languid kisses, that ignited an ember of need in my chest. I told myself it was okay, that he was the one who started this. We could kiss for a few more minutes, then I’d tell him to go back to sleep.

Only he had other ideas. Which I figured out when I realized he’d ditched his briefs sometime in the night, and the proof of his need was firm against my leg.

His hand slid down my arm, to my side, then up and under the front of my shirt. His knuckles skimmed my abdomen until they brushed along the underside of my breast.

White hot fire erupted in my body, making me want more, much more.  

“We have to stop,” I said. “You’re in no condition to—”

He cut me off, his mouth becoming more demanding as his thumb rubbed across my nipple.

My body jolted as electricity shot through me.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice vibrating as he pressed kissed along my jaw. “We’ll stop if you want me to, but don’t stop on my account, because I’m dying to fuck you. I’ve wanted to fuck you for weeks.”

I gasped again, my core throbbing.

“Do you want me to stop, Harper?”

I knew what I should have said, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “No,” I said in a raspy voice.

He rolled me to my back, kissing down my neck as his grabbed the bottom of my shirt and pulled it up over my head. I lifted my hands to help him take it off, but he left it around my wrists, bunching it up in his fist as he kept my arms pinned over my head.

My breath was coming in pants, and I ached for him.

A devilish grin spread across his face as he took in my bare breasts. “I like you wearin’ my shirt. But I like you naked even better.”

I watched him, breathless with anticipation. It was like he was a panther, playing with its prey, only I was begging to be devoured.

He kissed and licked his way down my neck and chest until his tongue flicked my nipple, making me squirm. Then he moved to my other breast, teasing it just as much.

“James.” The word came out hoarse and needy.

His free hand glided down my stomach, leaving goose bumps in its wake, until it slid between my legs. “You’re so fucking wet,” he groaned as his mouth continued to work on my breast.

A fire consumed me. I was desperate for more.

He slipped two fingers inside, thrusting as the heel of his hand hit in just the right place.

“James.” I tried to break free of his grip on my wrists, but his hand was like a vise. “I need to touch you.”

“Patience.” He continued to work me over, driving me to a frenzy.

“I need you.”

“What do you need, Harper?” he asked, sounding wicked.

I opened my eyes to see him watching me with a predatory stare. It made me want him even more. “I need you to fuck me.”

His brow lifted. “Do I need to get a condom?”

“Are you—”

“I’m clean.”

“No. I have an IUD.”

He was on top of me before I could finish the sentence, hiking my leg on his hip, then plunging into me, full hilt.

I arched my back to take him deeper.

He grunted, then drove into me hard. As good as it felt, I wondered if he had the stamina for this. I pulled my arms free then used my weight to roll him onto his back, him still inside me. Now I was on top, staring down at his amused face.

“My turn to drive you crazy,” I said, shaking off the shirt that still clung to one of my wrists. I placed both hands on his chest then lifted my body slowly and lowered myself onto him in a slow delicious pace, over and over as I let my fingers glide over his hard muscles, tracing the ridges.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he grunted.

“Patience,” I teased, leaning over and kissing him, my tongue exploring his mouth. He grasped the back of my head and pulled my lips tight against his as he took over the kiss, all fire and desire.

I sat upright, staring at him as I set a faster pace. He lifted both hands to my breasts, fondling me, making my desire climb.

I gasped, and as I grew closer, I closed my eyes to enjoy every sensation pulsing through me. It had never been like this with any other man, not even close, and I was going to enjoy every second of it.

James gripped one of my hips while the other slipped between my legs, pushing me even higher as he quickened the pace.

I leaned my head back, letting myself get lost as I climbed higher and higher.

“So damned beautiful,” he growled, his fingers digging possessively into my hip. “Come for me.”

His words were a command, like a bow drawn across strings already drawn tight. I cried out as a wave washed over me, followed by another and another. When I started to fall, he flipped me to my back, leaning over me as he drove into me with an urgency that had me climbing again. Another orgasm hit me, harder than the first one as he slammed into me, over and over, until he gave one last grunt and collapsed on top of me, his bare chest to mine.

We lay in bed panting, me in an orgasm-induced haze. Somewhere in the periphery of my mind, I knew I should make sure he was okay, but I couldn’t seem to make myself surface yet.

After a few seconds, he lifted his head, his face inches from mine, and stared at me with an expression I couldn’t name.

“That was…”  I said breathlessly, unsure how to finish the sentence.

“Incredible,” he said, not smiling, but he didn’t look unhappy either.

“That’s one word for it,” I said with a soft smile. There was no way I was going to tell him that was the best sex I’d ever had and that he’d ruined sex for me forever. Because there was no way I could go back to what I’d had before after experiencing this.

The thought made me sad, because I wasn’t deluded enough to think James Malcolm believed in forever. Hell, I wasn’t sure I believed in forever. I’d have to settle for however long we had.

His finger brushed the frown lines on my forehead. “Do you regret this?” The tension in his voice caught me by surprise.

I gave him a soft smile. “No. You probably shouldn’t have done that given your current state, but I can’t bring myself to be sorry.”

He leaned over and gave me a soft kiss. “Let me worry about my current state.” Then he lifted his head and studied me again. “Then why the frown?”

I shook my head. “Just because you screwed me into oblivion, doesn’t mean you get to know all my secrets.”

He turned serious. “I suppose we’ll both always have secrets.”

I lifted my hand to his cheek, the pad of my thumb brushing over his stubble. “You more than me.”

He grimaced in acknowledgment.

“But how about we try harder to tell each other what we can?” I suggested. “And try to respect the other when we say we can’t.”

He didn’t say anything for several seconds, but then said, “Agreed.”

“And we also agree to enjoy this while it lasts, however long or short that time is.”

He leaned down and kissed me, long and slow, like we had all the time in the world.

It was a few minutes later, as I lay on my side, with him curled around me, holding me close, that I realized he hadn’t responded to my last statement.  

Maybe the kiss was answer enough.

 

 

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