Page 47 of Lock

The couch was uncomfortable. My head wouldn’t shut up. Every sound on the floor had me halfway up and reaching for a weapon.

After an hour of staring at the ceiling, I gave up.

I went back to my room.

Kellan didn’t stir when I came in. I sat on the edge of the bed this time, far enough away to keep the space intact.

I didn’t touch him.

I didn’t lie down at first. But eventually, exhaustion won.

I lay back on my side of the bed, facing away from him, staring at the dark.

Close enough to protect him…

Far enough not to break the rules.

7

KELLAN

I woke up slowly,feeling all warm and rested. Which surprised me considering I’d been kidnapped less than twenty-four hours ago. My body felt pretty good, like it had decided sleep was safe whether my brain agreed or not.

I didn’t open my eyes right away.

I lay there, aware of the unfamiliar mattress beneath me, the weight of the blankets, the faint scent of smoke and cedar in the air, that was sharper now, and unmistakably alpha. I already knew where I was. Lock’s room. Crimson Havoc territory. None of that was new anymore.

I shifted, stretching without thinking and bumped into something warm. Solid. Human.

I froze.

My eyes flew open as my brain caught up with my body.

Lock lay beside me.

That was new!

Not close enough to be touching, but close enough that I could feel the heat of him through the sheets. He was on his back, one arm thrown above his head, the blanket riding low onhis hips like he’d crawled in sometime after I’d already fallen asleep.

I stared at him for a second, my pulse skidding.

He hadn’t been here when I drifted off.

Morning light hadn’t fully reached the room yet, but the lamp glow was still enough to see everything: the thick muscle across his stomach, the tattoos curling up his ribs, the deep lines of his abs tightening and releasing with each slow breath. His hair was shoved back from his face, and his jaw was shadowed with stubble.

He looked… peaceful.

Which honestly made no sense. He didn’t strike me as a man who slept much. Or at all.

My gaze drifted lower.

The sheet tented unmistakably over his morning erection.

Heat spilled into my cheeks before I could stop it.

I shouldn’t look. I absolutely shouldn’t look.

I looked.