Army of You & Me by London Billy

Author:London, Billy [London, Billy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
ISBN: 9781304247247
Publisher: Shara Azod, LLC
Published: 2013-07-19T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Madeline was wide awake. She’d washed her face, cleaned her teeth, and tugged on the cotton nightgown. It still had the price tag on, and Madeline’s eyebrows nearly shot off to space. No one needed to spend several hundred pounds on a nightgown. The bed was huge and the sheets were brushed silk-soft. And yet she was wide awake. After all the food and the wine—white, rosé and red—and the brandy she was wide awake. Because Cain had caught her with a gaze that seared her with promise.

I’m coming to your bed, and I dare anyone to stop me. Old houses tended to creak and move. She focused on those sounds, as everything else was deathly quiet. How did anyone sleep in this tomb? The connecting door creaked open and a topless Cain slipped through the crack. Madeline lost her breath. Holy God, he was so beautiful.

“Fucking freezing,” he whispered, diving under the covers and snuggling against her. She could smell the mint of his toothpaste and the warmth of his soap from a shower. Against her arm, his chest hair was short and ticklish. Temptation to examine his body for wounds was overwhelming, but the good girl in her remembered that they were in his parents’ home.

“Where are your pyjamas?” she hissed, trying to untangle his thick, corded arms from her body.

“Somewhere in my bag. Box. Suitcase. Something. I don’t know.” He brushed his mouth over the pulse in her neck and she trembled. If he did that again, her resolve was going straight out the window and they’d both be naked.

“Cain...”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

His mouth travelled over her neck, tracing the seam of the nightgown. She felt warm waves of his breath drifting over her skin. “Your parents said no.”

“Then how are you going to sleep?” he asked, lifting his head from her décolletage to lightly kiss her ear and temple.

“What are you talking about?”

Cain shifted so she was looking up at him. “You need those meditation tapes to sleep. I don’t have any of that. It sounds like some God-awful hippie claptrap. I’m your alternative.”

“You can make whale noises?”

“I can talk. For God and King Richard, I can talk.”

She laughed until tears ran down her face. He was so silly. Resting her head on his shoulder, she draped an arm over his chest. “Talk, then.”

And he did. He ran commentary on everything. From how his mother didn’t like anyone but seemed to like Madeline a lot, to his father being all gooey-eyed over her. He told her how his childhood was littered with the very same sweets she’d sent him, running amok in the fields, learning to drive in near darkness and Maypole dancing. “You can’t tell anyone I did that though,” he warned her. The delicious rumble of his voice was like the smooth running of an expensive car

“Why? Did you have a whole outfit?”

“With knee high socks, yes. There are pictures that have never and will never see the light of day.”

“That’s good.” She yawned widely. He’d been right.

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