| |
EVER THINK TO yourself, “I shouldn’t have done that but I don’t care?”
It was a dull overcast day out. The moors were steeped in thick mist and the clouds overhead were a deep rainy grey. The silk sheets—yes, she really did have silk sheets—felt slinky against my bare skin and I groaned into the soft pillow that smelled of blossoms.
At what point in my hormone-addled brain did I think it was a fantastic idea to sleep with a suspect? And I know what you’re thinking, “nice move, you complete buffoon.”
But I had a deep sense of satisfied exhaustion so . . . I didn’t care.
I pulled the bedsheets away and searched the huge room—the size you’d expect for the boss—but couldn’t find my clothes. It didn’t look like I’d expected and was more modern. The bed was a sleigh shape; there was a leather covered desk in the corner which could have been a dressing table but it had no mirror. There was an egg-shaped light oak chair in front of it.
The walls were dusty brown and the floor was the same light oak. Above a large fireplace, there was a five-foot sketch in brown paint or pencil of a woman arching back with her neck exposed and her hands threaded through her thick hair.
“I did not wish to wake you. You were sleeping soundly.” Sophie’s low alto rumbled through the room as she strolled in: that renaissance style shirt left undone to show of her elegant bra and even more elegant body; her sleeves loose at the elbow so as she fiddled with the cuffs, her taut, defined forearm muscles flexed; no trousers on, just elegant silk pants and long, long, toned legs.
Are you still thinking I’m a buffoon?
Sophie paused, then dipped her head, and caught my gaze. “Would you like breakfast?”
I leaned against the curved headboard and my hand whirred. Should have taken it off to sleep but . . . hey . . . I was distracted. “Have you eaten?”
She smiled and pulled a long call cord next to the door then perched on the bed beside me.
“I am unaccustomed to women waking up with me.” She fiddled with her cuffs again, her white hair falling into her face. I took the cufflink off her and threaded it through as she stroked my cheek. “You look uncomfortable.”
“You called the maid and I’m naked.” I hugged my knees. “I don’t know where my clothes are.” My right hand was warm and clammy, my left was cool smooth metal.
Sophie held up a finger, disappeared through a doorway to the right of the fireplace then reappeared with a set of clothes. “Will these be appropriate for now?”
Her expression was cute, innocent, and certainly not the same woman who had ravished me all night, continuously, only letting me sleep in snatches before starting all over again. Hungry? Um . . . understatement alert, try for famished.
“Thank you.” I took the clothes, and Sophie motioned to a door on the left of the fireplace so I headed into the bathroom, big enough to fit my room in, with large smoky grey tiles, lashings of natural light through an opaque window, a hot tub sized bath, and enough space in the shower to wash an entire rugby team. I sighed as warmth eased through my toes. And she had underfloor heating.
“Ma’am?” The maid squeaked from the bedroom and I flicked my fringe out of my face to peer through the crack in the doorway. The maid sounded like Sophie would eat her . . . then again, maybe the shaking was from seeing Sophie half dressed. How did Fiona ignore that and marry a school liaison officer?
“What would be a suitable breakfast for Morgan?” Sophie asked like she was really trying to be gentle. If it wasn’t for the deep tone, it could almost be sweet.
I wrestled on the shirt and smiled. It was one of Sophie’s. The shoulders were too big for me but did you ever feel like an item of clothing might remain permanently in your possession? Felt like a trophy, a trophy that smelled of her.
“Ma’am?” The maid had her gaze on the floor and was hugging her silver tray like it was a shield.
Sophie narrowed her eyes, then glanced back at the bathroom, and set herself like she might rugby tackle the shaking maid. “What breakfast would Morgan like?”
More growly but she was trying. Oh, she was so cute.
I smiled and nosed at the shampoo bottles. Willow-Blossom conditioner from Haye Lotions. I pulled off the top. That was the smell. I needed to bribe a maid for some.
The maid hugged her tray tighter. “Ma’am?”
“Breakfast!” Sophie growled.
I yanked on the rest of my clothes. Intervention needed. “I catch breakfast on the run most of the time,” I said, headed over to Sophie, and kissed her on the cheek. “But I could do with some toast and tea if it’s going?”
I squeezed Sophie’s warm hand as she fixed on the maid—shaking enough the tray rattled—and leaned onto the balls of her feet like she’d pounce.
I kissed the side of Sophie’s long, graceful neck. “Gently,” I whispered into her ear. “Try smiling at her?”
Sophie sneered instead. “Breakfast, please.”
The maid hunched, her tray covering half her face.
I pushed back Sophie’s collar and kissed the join between her neck and shoulder. “Keep trying.”
Sophie glared at me, eyes sharp.
I pulled her lips to mine and brushed over them, slowly, softly. “Please?”
She pursed her lips back mid-nibble. “It doesn’t matter how I talk to them, they shake.” She folded her arms and yes, there was a pouty bottom lip. “I haven’t snarled at her . . . much . . .” She sighed. “They all shake.” She nibbled my lips some more then grunted. “Morgan would like some toast and tea, please.”
Bit of a sneer with a rumbling growl. I loved how low her voice was, how breathy, how much it could sound like . . . a tiger.
“Ma’am,” the maid lowered her tray, offered a shaky smile back at Sophie, stared at me like I was nuts, and bolted.
Guess not everyone liked tigers.
Sophie flapped her hands to her sides, her eyes full of that need for reassurance.
“I don’t know why they shake either. You don’t even take out their ankles.” I smiled up and slid my arms around Sophie’s neck. “Maybe it’ll just take practice?”
I leaned back to take her in, so much more beautiful than she’d ever been, eyes so gentle, her face rich in that deep olive sun-kissed glow, her lips pulled to one side like she didn’t get it.
“You don’t shake.” She snarled at the doorway and strode to the fireplace. She took her watch, a leather band she wore on the opposite wrist, her rings, and fiddled with one of the inserts for her ears.
“Because I spent the night with you.” And she was still in silk underwear with a very pert bum.
Sophie glanced over her shoulder and there was the dangerous smile. “Most would shake harder.”
“Yes, but they’re not in love with you are they?” I whispered, staring at her bum not to meet her eyes. If I thought I was in love during the night, I knew I was now. I didn’t even want to think of the implications.
“Neither are they as loyal.” She raised an eyebrow. “Are you that fond of my rear?”
I nodded. “I really love your bum. It’s yummy.”
Sophie raised both her dark eyebrows and let out a warm chuckle. “Yours is . . . pure artistry.”
Her eyes softened. Then she frowned, turned, and strode out of the room.
“That makes you angry?” I glanced over my shoulder. I don’t think anyone had ever said any part of me was pure artistry before, let alone my bum. I was taking it.
“No.” She strode back in with jeans on, her boots in one hand, and her socks in the other.
“You look uncomfortable yourself now,” I whispered, trying not to smile. Was she flustered?
She sat on the edge of the bed, focus on her socks. Vulnerable, beautiful, strong. “Your attention will only stir me again.”
In that case . . . I sat next to her and pulled Sophie’s lips to mine. I nibbled the plump bottom one until she pushed me down to the bed and leaned over me. “I like stirring you.”
Sophie rolled onto me, eyes glinting. “Then I will give you what you like.”
“Sophie?” Edwina called as she knocked on the door. “Sophie, are you in there?”
“She can wait,” Sophie said to my collarbone, slowly working every pore with her lips. “I’ve been nice once. It’ll do.”
“I love that you were nice.” I pulled her face up and kissed her juicy lips, gazed into her smouldering eyes. “Can’t over do it though.”
She narrowed her eyes and growled into the side of my neck until, yes, you guessed right, I squealed with the tickle of it and let out a blurted giggle.
“Sophie?” Edwina knocked harder. “Lady Raquel is here and is waiting in the library . . . and Morgan is missing.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Maybe we should tell her?” Apart from the fact Sophie had pinned my hands to the bed and was caressing the scars on my arm. “Wait, is it me or is Lady Raquel early?”
Sophie kissed her way back over my collarbone. “Early. Unlike her. Must be her stepdaughter.”
I broke free and grabbed her bum and squeezed causing pressure somewhere . . . yeah. “Maybe . . .” Needed to squeeze again. Now that worked. And squeeze again. Sophie let out a breathy moan. “Maybe . . . she wants to check your reflexes?”
Sophie chuckled and pinned my hands above my head. “Perhaps she will take a nap?”
“You think?” I hooked my thighs around Sophie’s and pulled her down. Yep, same effect. Same breathy groan.
“You still have some questions I want answered.” She slid her tongue into my mouth, deep, rolling, the pressure more forceful.
“I’m not giving in easily.” Although it might have appeared that way.
“Where is my pistol?”
“No idea.” I leaned my head back and she grazed her teeth over my windpipe and sucked again. It worked for her, it really did.
“Where is it?” She grabbed my face, eyes intense.
“Nope, forgotten.”
She narrowed her eyes and her kiss was forceful, filled with annoyance, and passion and it wasn’t going to take her long to prise any information out of me this way.
“Sophie?” Edwina snapped and shoved open the door. She gasped, then slammed something. “Unhand her!”
Sophie carried on, her tongue working with her lips. I groaned and relaxed into it, hormones washing all sense of exterior away. Just Sophie, her body, and her lips. “Where is it?”
“You unhand her this instant!” Edwina clattered something.
Sophie sighed and pushed up onto her elbows. “I’m fairly certain Morgan welcomes my advances.” She slid off the bed—teasing me with the friction as her belt grazed all the way down—got to her feet, and pulled me into her arms. “If I don’t answer, I am busy.”
Really busy and I felt hammered.
“Morgan, you are meant to be on duty.” Edwina looked me up and down with resignation in her eyes. “We have been looking for you all morning.”
“Morgan has been working very hard already,” Sophie said with a sure smile. Oh, she was going to bait Edwina? Nice.
I poked her in the side. “I do not get paid for that.”
Sophie pulled me to press the length of my body to her strong hip, her side, and wrapped her arm over me. “There was me assuming it was part of your role?”
Arrogant, teasing, and now Edwina was scowling.
“Only if that role is a relationship.” I wagged my finger. “You’ll make everyone think you stuck me over your shoulder and carried me to your lair.”
“I dragged you if I recall?” She shrugged, eyes twinkling.
“But not against my will,” I mumbled back.
She leaned in to kiss me but Edwina cleared her throat.
Sophie rolled her eyes, her grumble soft. “I will attend Raquel when I have enjoyed breakfast with Morgan.” Her voice lowered into a rumble. “And when I have extracted information from her.” Her tone softened as I took her hand. “Tell Raquel I will attend her then.” I squeezed and she sighed and looked at Edwina. “Please.”
Edwina raised her eyebrows. The “please” sounded like a fired insult but it wasn’t a roar like with the maid.
“Lady Haye,” the maid managed between shaking jaw and panting. “Morgan, here’s your toast and tea just how you like it.”
I grinned at the maid and pecked Sophie on the lips. Beautiful beyond words. “Thank you.”
Sophie blinked a few times. “I am unsure what I have done to warrant your gratitude.”
I patted the bed beside me. “Sit with me?”
Sophie looked to Edwina and the maid who stared back, then shrugged. Her shoulders eased down and she smiled a soft smile. “I would like that.” She strolled to the bed, perched next to me, scooped a fingertip of cream cheese, and splodged it onto my nose with a grin.
I chuckled and Edwina and the maid exchanged a glance, then nodded to each other and walked out.
Yes. Sophie had a softer side after all.