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Like he was feeling just as frantic as I was.

“Reyna…” he said, clearly catching onto something inmy mood.

“Just kiss me,” I cut him off. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to do anything but fall under his spell for as long as I had left.

Until the fucked up lot that had been cast against us came for us both and we were destroyed.

Adrian complied, though I could tell he was only setting aside his concern for the morning. His lips slipped back over mine, his tongue moving into my mouth in a slow show of dominance. “Strip,” he ordered. “I want to see you sprawled out on my bed for me.”

My clothes were on the floor in seconds. And the moment I crawled back on his bed, keeping eye contact the entire time, he pounced on me like a lion after his meal.

If last night was intense, I didn’t know how to describe this. It was beyond fucking, beyond pleasure. And neither of us could stop. I didn’t know what was fueling Adrian, but I was greedy. I knew how little time I might have this for. And I was taking advantage.

By the time we fell together on his bed in a mess of sweaty limbs around three in the morning, the fury and tension in my chest had ebbed enough that I thought I might be able to sleep tonight. I sat up in bed, stretching my arms over head, then swung my feet off the bed.

“Don’t even think about asking me to take you home,” Adrian’s hoarse voice said, his hand sliding down my bare back. “You’re staying here until further notice.”

I looked over my shoulder at him, lying back on the pillows with an arm slung behind his head. “I—”

“Nope.”

I leaned over and clamped a hand down over his mouth. “I wasn’t planning on it. But now that you brought it up, maybe you would be so kind as to let me go home and pack a bag, you dork.”

Adrian pulled me back over him with one arm. I’d never get used to what his strength did to me. “In the morning,” he said.

“In the morning,” I agreed.

Chapter 23

Adrian

Something was wrong with Reyna. For two days, she’d been jittery and tense.

And seemingly insatiable. Not that I was complaining on that front.

We’d barely left my bed in two days. It was probably irresponsible, but I didn’t care. She reached for me as often as I reached for her. We spent every minute of every day together.

I certainly didn’t have an issue with that, some would say I was enjoying it.

But I knew it wasn’t Reyna’s style.

She was independent. The type to enjoy spending time apart so that it made coming back together all the more special.

I was the same, basking in the tension building over hours spent apart, fantasizing about how I would take her when I saw her again.

But I had a feeling she was avoiding something. And my first thought was that she was nervous to be alone incase her kidnappers came after her again.

And that was simply unacceptable.

“Reyna,” I said, drawing her attention away from her book as we sat together on my porch for breakfast.

“Hmm?” she hummed, looking up at me lazily. Fuck, I could get very distracted by that look. By the comfortability and the trust in it.

But I pushed through the jolt in my stomach. “You do realize it’s Sunday, right?”

Her brows knitted together, a little line forming between them.

The confused variation of that expression. Other versions included: concentration and when she was about to co—