Page 51 of Love the Way You Lion (Rise of the Resistance #3)
The Artist Realizes His Mistake
RAFE
Y awning, I roll over and stretch a little. My head’s muzzy from the night before. I’m always a slow riser, and when I remember what happened last night, my eyes pop open.
Holy fuck buckets.
I look to see if he’s awake yet. We’re no longer on the floor—the woman moved us to a place more amenable to sleeping. It was nice of her, but scary that neither of us noticed because we slept so damned hard. I guess they hotfooted to a guest room since we’re in my bed here.
The women were bloody hot together and they’re off figuring out their end of things, but him? Hell, if I know.
It’s not like I haven’t been a convenient outlet before, so I’m not offended, just..
. resigned, maybe. An unavoidable truth in my life is that this situation will only end in pain.
I suppose the woman feels even worse about it, and she’s got the shorter end of that stick than me, so I can’t whine as much as accept it .
I slide to the edge of the bed, trying not to disturb him as I rise. Perhaps it is best if I shrug it off and head off as the awkward morning scene is about to unfold.
“Where are you going, Sampson?”
Turning to look over my shoulder sheepishly, I shrug. “I was pondering a drink.”
Untrue, but now that he’s awake, all hope of avoiding the hems and haws has dissipated.
He grins—which is fucking spectacular to see, though I’ve not been on the receiving end of that much before now—then rolls over, scratching his stomach. “If you’re in the mood, I could use a scotch. If you’re not, I’ll get it later, no worries.”
“No scotch. Is bourbon okay?” I stand, walking over to the bar to grab the bottle and a few glasses.
Sitting them on the side table, I pour a hefty amount in each and hand him one, settling down against the pillows.
I have no idea what he’s expecting of me or what’s going to happen, so I sip the single barrel as casually as one can in my current state.
Taurus is definitely going to give me ‘the speech’.
He pushes up far enough to sip his drink and looks up at me. “Thanks. Are we good?”
Ah,I had this nailed in my head; I can do this.
I have to consider what I can and can’t say. Finally, I nod and sip my drink again. The fewer words I say, the fewer problems there will be.
“Good.”
My temples throb as I feel a migraine coming. I know that the worry from last night, the worry and the rest of the emotions swirling inside of me are going to make this a humdinger. “Yeah.” The corner of his mouth twists up into a grin. “A laconic pair, aren’t we?”
How can I say anything when I know you have one foot out the door?
Running my hand through my hair, I force a chuckle. “Apparently.”
Taurus watches me for a moment, sitting up against the pillows.
After another sip, he stares out into the room at Hex’s immaculate décor.
“I want you to know, mate. As fond as I am of your body, I’d appreciate it if you’d hold to the no-Talia-pain philosophy you’ve been working on.
If she got hurt, it wouldn’t be a good day.
That’s not a warning, but I worry about her is all. ”
I’m not sure how to answer that, so I stay quiet, pouring myself another clone.
It feels like I’m going to need it because so far, all I’ve gotten out of him is a mini-praise for not being grotesque and a not-really warning about hurting my wife.
It doesn’t feel like this is going to be a very productive morning.
“This is all rather new to me—you, us. I’m not prepped for the after snuggles, though,” he frowns and looks at me for the first time in a while, “doesn’t seem to be an issue. I’m not sure I understand that, either.”
I might as well be functionally muted for all the words I have right now.
I should say something, but what? I can’t say something like ‘well, mate since I’m sure I was a hormone-induced flight of fancy, as usual, I didn’t feel like I should do things that might muddy the lines of acceptable behavior from a side piece’.
Ugh. That sounded harsh even in my brain. This is not good.
“Bugger.” He wipes a hand down his face, looking as if he’s going to say something when a loud noise from across the room distracts him. “Christ. It’s the bloody Company. That’s a ‘ now ’ sound, mate. I have to run.”
Before I even figure out what to reply, he’s disappeared and I’m left wondering what happened. “Did I dream it all?”
Christ. I’m such a fucking idiot.