Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 83

PATTON

There's a black cat in my bed and she might be the luckiest little creature alive.

I am fucking blessed.

Soft morning light streams through the curtains and illuminates her sleeping face. I've been awake for a while now, staring at her in awe.

We're both still naked, though she's wrapped the blankets around herself in a snug nest.

Usually, this is the time to sneak away.

It's either a forgettable moment best left behind me or I have urgent business to get on with. But leaving, that's missing from my mind.

Shit, I'd gladly throw away an entire workweek if it means adding a few more hours to this morning, stretching out time like the gold sunrays spilling across her mahogany hair.

She's more relaxed in her sleep than I've ever seen. Her forehead lacks the lines that gather there so often, her mouth soft and her face worry free.

It's a crime this isn't her normal face. I want her to feel peaceful.

Just about as much as I want to wake up beside her every morning without a care in the world—or a goddamned looming disaster.

Yes, I know. Everything about this is wrong. The trouble is, it feels too right.

And she stirs, wiggling free from her cocoon of covers. When she opens her eyes and sees me lying beside her, panic flashes on her face.

Thankfully, brief. A startled second, a twitch of her lips before it fades behind the impassive wall she throws up.

"Morning," I say with a yawn. "Haven't slept that well in years."

"Um." She sits up, holding the covers up with one hand like a shield. With the other hand, she brushes her loose hair back from her face. "Patton, did we…?"

Oh, shit.

Not the words a man wants to hear from a woman after he's made her scream half the night.

"We did," I say carefully. "Let me guess, you regret it already?"

"No." She clears her throat. "No, but we should probably talk about what happened."

"What part?"

"The sex, Patton," she says flatly, finger combing her hair again. "I mean, the fact that you're my boss and we just slept together."

Yeah, I get the dilemma.

I can almost see the instant when she comes to the same conclusion, or maybe just finds the same twisted excuse for crossing lines that ought to be sacrosanct.

"Just for the weekend," she says quietly. "You're probably right. If we're careful, no one has to know…"

"As long as you're quiet. You think you can manage?" I pull her forward, kissing her until I growl in her mouth.

"I… I…" she stammers adorably as I sweep her hair back, closing my fist around a makeshift ponytail.

"I'm not going to make it easy for you," I promise. "Challenge accepted."

The hot flicker in her hazel eyes cuts me in two.

This is how this woman brings me crashing to my knees.

The fact that she takes every challenge and inverts them, hounding me to be better in every way.

And as my free hand skims down to her ass, grabbing her until her moans taste like caramel, I can't say I mind this capacity one damn bit.

Our routine continues through the rest of this surreal conference.

She's my woman for the giddy little real estate apes who now look at me with a newfound respect, especially the men who look on with boiling jealousy.