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His teeth gnash, and a feral, dangerous sound rips from his throat. I wait for the invasion to come, those rough hands handling my body, the hard thrust between my legs as he takes me. But in a blink, he’s gone, his hand snatched from my throat, his body weight, all of it. Lex is off the bed and up on his feet, scrubbing his face like he’s trying to force his alter ego away. “Don’t.”

“What?”

His chest heaves, and I brace for him to pounce, but he turns away from me, facing the fireplace across the room. From this vantage, I see the criss-cross scars which mar his back, thick and gnarled. The top layer is still pink, healing from the last punishment. Bile rises to my throat now that I know what caused them. “Don’t you dare question my loyalty.”

“I’m not questioning you,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “I’mremindingyou.”

Silence stretches between us, and I watch the muscles in his back tighten and tense, making the scars ripple, as he struggles with his demons, a new one revealed when he said,‘I can’t stop until I’ve worked you out of my system.’

“Come back to bed.” I clear my throat. “Please.”

He doesn’t acknowledge me, just walks into the bathroom, flicking on the light. I hear the sink faucet turn on, followed by a hard rush of water. A few moments later, he walks back out, seemingly more in control, picks up the pillow, and tosses it on the end of the bed. He returns to his side.

He burrows under the covers, flipping to his side, he hits the dimmer, and the room settles into semi-darkness.

“Goodnight,” he says, the signal that whatever just transpired between us is settled.

On my own side, I turn my back to him and reply, “Goodnight.”

* * *

Rattle…rattle…rattle

The noise cuts through the fog of sleep. Instinctively, I stretch my arm out across the bed. The space is still warm, but empty. Opening my eyes, I look around the room and see Lex standing at the door, fiddling with the knob.

His sleepwalking has lessened since we started having sex, although not entirely. A few nights when Wicker was here, he tried to get in, banging on the opposite side of the door. Each time, either Pace or Wicker gently returned him to his room, doing their best not to escalate the situation. Tonight, there’s no one around to deal with him, so I rise to stop him myself, detangling myself from the blankets. Unfortunately, he gets the door open before I can reach him, his large frame ambling down the hall.

“Shit,” I mutter, the cold air in the room slapping my bare thighs. I’ve seen how his brothers do this, quietly and without sudden movement. They don’t want to wake him—just redirect him back to a safe bed. He moves quickly and quietly, passing his bedroom without a second glance. I expect him to stop at Pace’s room, but he continues forward, headed to the back staircase.

I trail behind him like a ghost, not wanting to accost him on the stairs. He goes straight to the kitchen, pausing to snatch an apple out of the fruit bowl on the counter and taking a bite. The crunch echoes in the still room, his face and body lit only by a small light over the sink. As quickly as he picks up the apple, he drops it, the fruit hitting the tile floor with a thud and then rolling across the floor. Turning to the refrigerator, he opens the door and silhouetted in the light, I watch him remove a carton of juice and drink straight from the top.

Tentatively, I reach out and touch his back, feeling the rough ridge of healed flesh.

At my touch, he spins, juice dripping down his chin. He wipes it off with the back of his hand.

“Hey.” I take the carton from him. He blinks, eyes glazed over, but I sense the shift when he notices me. He leans toward me, taking a long sniff of my neck. I fight a shiver and say, “Let’s get you back to—”

His hands cinch around my waist, and he picks me up, placing me on the island in the center of the room. His hands flatten on either side of my legs, pinning me in.

“Lex,” I say, setting the carton aside. A drop of juice is caught in his chest hair. “Let’s get you back upstairs.”

“Hungry.” His voice is a low grunt.

“Then let’s get a snack.” I move to slide off the island, but he holds me still, hands moving up my thighs until they vanish under my nightdress. Roughly, he grabs the sides of my panties and yanks them down my legs.

I fall back from the force, and a rush of warmth pools at my core as he brings the white cotton to his nose and inhales, licking his lips on a hum. “You smell so good.”

Fuck. I should stop this. Stophimbefore he breaks another promise… but is it? Is it breaking a promise when he’s asleep?

Before I decide, a shadow moves on the staircase, and I freeze. If it’s Wicker, he’ll throw a fit. If it’s Danner or Ashby, well, I’m already mortified. I squint past the refrigerator light and see the glint of black eyes peeking out from behind dark twists. Pace.

Well, that changes things.

“You hungry, baby?” I bend and lick the drop of juice off his chest in a slow, deliberate path. His Adam’s apple bobs slowly, and I take it a step further, looking into his eyes. Spreading my thighs, I rub my fingers over my clit. “My pussy is wet and ready.”

The words feel strange and out of character, but they’re not a lie. Iamwet and ready for him, and that dark look that I saw in his amber eyes earlier tonight returns. Swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, he hooks his arms behind my knees and pulls me to the edge of the table. The first swipe of his tongue over my clit feels like two exposed livewires meeting for the first time. I cry out and thrust my fingers into his hair, hips rising to meet his mouth.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he tastes me, that ravenous hunger on display. His hands flatten against my inner thighs, spreading me farther apart, and the hot warmth of his breath sends a shiver across my flesh.