Page 97 of Sadistic

"One night?—"

"Too long."

The elevator dings, doors opening to my penthouse.

I carry her inside, still buried deep, kicking the door shut behind us.

We don't make it to the bedroom.

I take her on the couch, the kitchen counter, against the windows overlooking the city.

By the time we finally collapse in my bed, we're both spent, covered in sweat and each other.

"I'm going to be sore tomorrow," she murmurs against my chest.

"Good. Every time you move, you'll remember who you belong to."

"Possessive bastard."

"Your possessive bastard." I run my fingers through her tangled hair.

"I should shower," she says.

"Later." I hold her tighter. "Need to tell you something first."

"If it's bad news, can it wait? I'm in a post-orgasmic happiness bubble. Again."

"It's... neutral news."

She props herself up, looking down at me with suspicious eyes. "What kind of neutral?"

"Njal's been spotted. He's heading back to Jacksonville."

Her entire body tenses. "When?"

"Yesterday. Maybe the day before. He's being careful, staying off main roads."

"Is he... do we know what he's planning?"

"No. But I have people watching for him. You're safe."

She relaxes slightly, processing this. "Okay. That's... okay. What else?"

"What makes you think there's something else?"

"You have that look. The 'I made a decision you're not going to like' look."

I'm impressed. This woman is starting to really understand me. "You're learning my looks already?"

"Doran. What else?"

"I invited Bembe Reyes to the wedding."

She goes completely still.

Then, slowly, she sits up, sheet clutched to her chest. "You did what now?"

"It's strategic. A show of good faith?—"