She followed docilely, making me wish she’d put up a fight. Show me a glimpse of the real Sloane Walton.
She paused, staring at the mound of pillows I’d arranged in a U.
“You remembered,” she said softly.
“I remember every second of us.”
39
Who Has the Head Wound
Lucian
Iwoke to a warm, vibrating weight on my chest. It felt comforting. Until the weight shifted and something sharp prodded me in the face.
I opened my eyes and found yellow ones glaring back. The cat apparently had an opinion about me sharing Sloane’s bed. The woman in question was sleeping soundly, her back glued to my side, her head resting in the crook of my arm.
The moment felt so fucking right. Like earning my first million. Only this was terrifyingly better. Money could be made and lost. It could be replaced. Sloane couldn’t.
I savored the moment…until it was ruined by another stab of claws. Silently, I glared at the stupidly named feline. She returned the look, tail flicking against my bare chest. Then, with a glance in Sloane’s direction, she opened her mouth and released a feral-sounding yowl.
“Shut. Up,” I hissed at the cat.
Sloane grumbled in her sleep and shifted against me.
I saw the gleam in the cat’s eyes, the shift of her weight, and caught her just before she pounced on Sloane’s sleeping form.
“Absolutely not, you demon fur ball from hell.”
I dumped the cat on the floor and carefully slid my arm out from under my exhausted librarian. Meow Meow must have felt I was taking too long rearranging the pillows behind Sloane because I received another puncture wound. This one to the calf.
“Christ, cat. I’ll feed you. Just give me a minute to find clothes.”
I was naked, and yesterday’s suit was not an option. Between the tree climbing and cradling the soot-streaked Sloane, my suit had met its maker.
With the cat obstinately threading her way between my feet, I poked through Sloane’s closet until I discovered a pair of pale pink sweatpants that would have to do. I dragged them over my thighs, seams straining, then unearthed the sweatshirt she’d offered me when I’d chased her home.
The ex-boyfriend sweatshirt. I was going to take it with me and conveniently lose it in a trash bin.
“Fuck,” I muttered, looking at my reflection in the full-length mirror.
The pants barely covered the top of my ass crack in the back. In the front, the thin, tight fabric did everything it could to accentuate the outline of my cock.
“Meow,” the cat said, sounding smugly amused.
“Let’s never speak of this again.”
Together, we quietly headed downstairs where the cat went into full meltdown mode, yowling at me like she was a spoiled heiress and I was an incompetent waiter.
“I want to make Sloane breakfast, not you.”
Meow Meow was unimpressed and narrowed her yellow eyes at me.
“Fine. I’ll feed you. Then you’ll stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. Deal?”
I took the slow blink as a binding contract and went in search of cat food. I poured a medium-sized mound of dry food into the cat face-shaped dish on the floor and then headed to the coffee maker.
Coffee started, I was ten minutes into a recipe for pancakes and texting Petula a list of necessities that I was going to need here since I’d be staying for the foreseeable future when the doorbell rang.
Cursing, I pulled the pan off the burner and made the quietest, fastest run possible to the front door. I nearly took a header into the door when the cat appeared out of nowhere and cut in front of me at full gallop.
“You furry little fucker,” I snarled as I threw open the door.
Nash and Lina stood on the doorstep, gawking.
“If you woke her up, I’ll be kicking your ass,” I warned Nash.
“Uhhh.” Lina’s mouth was open, her eyes wide and riveted to an area below my belt.
Nash covered his fiancée’s eyes and choked out a laugh. “What the fuck are you wearing?”
“The only thing that fucking fit.”
“No, you’re not,” Lina said, her voice tinged with hysteria.
“Wardrobe opinions aside, what the hell are you doing here?” I demanded.
Nash pokered up immediately. “It’s about the fire.”
Ice formed in my gut. “You know the cause?”
“Can we talk about this inside?” he hedged.
“Fine. But if either of you wakes her, you’re fired and you’re getting your ass kicked,” I said, pointing first at Lina and then at Nash.