Chapter 1
Lila hoped it would be one of those mornings.
She yawned under the covers in the dim room, lit by a neon-blue Vacancy sign several buildings over. The chill of mid-November coursed over her bare shoulders. The whirl of the space heater hung in the air, far too loud for the meager heat it offered. Glints of steel twinkled around her like stars, the light reflecting off a dozen knives, a tranq gun, and a mace pegged to the wall. A string of bottle caps hung silently in the window.
She turned to her companion and snuggled deeper in his arms.
“Stay,” Tristan mumbled sleepily, his grip tightening around her. His brown eyes opened, and his long eyelashes fluttered against her cheek, tickling her skin.
“I am. I have no intention of getting out bed. Ever.”
“Oh, really?” Tristan offered a deep, satisfied mmm and rolled atop her, his purring growl transferring from his chest to hers. Soft fingers brushed a few stray brown locks from her face while his arm snaked under her back. Closing his eyes, he dipped his head. His mouth worked at hers, lazily sucking upon her lips as his hand drifted southward.
She tasted whiskey.
He probably tasted her wine.
She breathed in the scent of his shampoo and thumbed his cheek, exploring his mouth. Stubble brushed her palm, a palm broken by pink, healing scars.
Velvet tongues tangled.
Tristan broke away first.
He moved to her neck and nibbled the spot that made her jump and giggle, chuckling when she did. “I claim this spot for Tristonia.”
“Last night, it was Tristopolis.”
“It was?” he asked, pulling away. “Damn the natives. They’re too fickle.”
He tugged her closer, grasping her thigh firmly, sparking an ache and an itch for more. “I like another spot, too. I like it so much that I’ll have to visit it again.”
The bed shook under his shifting weight. Feather kisses brushed her skin, their trail snaking lower and lower across her belly.
Oh, thank the gods!
It would be one of those mornings.
She needed it after the dream she’d just had. She needed his arms, his promises, his closeness.
She needed to forget.
Lila sucked in a breath as his mouth drifted ever lower, as she arched her back and reached for the headboard.
The spark he started grew into a fire, catching, swelling, waking every cell in her body from her toes to her fingertips.
She heard a pop as Tristan’s breath warmed her skin.
As he stopped.
“Damn it, Lila, you broke the headboard again.”
Lila looked back, wincing at the pinkie-thin dowel rods he’d cut and stained to look as though they belonged.
The dowel rods she’d just broken.
Again.
“Stop trying to fix them. I’ll buy you a new headboard, a stronger one. One that can take our tugging and pulling. One that’s Lila and Tristan proof.”
“That’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”