she just couldn’t find a comfortable enough position but damned if she’d let that stop her.
Sleeping. While he was sitting there, brooding and thinking so hard his head felt like it was about to come apart as he tried to figure out how to fix this.
Isn’t this just fucking perfect . . .
He pulled up in front of the hotel and climbed out. As the valet came around, Joss tossed the keys at him. Taylor may or may not like having somebody else park his snazzy little car, but Joss sort of had his hands full. Or would in a second. It occurred to him then, as he opened the door and knelt by Dru, studying her wan face, if she didn’t wake up, he didn’t have to worry about getting her another room, right?
Gingerly, he slid one arm under her. She immediately rolled toward him, curling into him like she’d just been waiting for the chance. It hit him, square in the chest, like somebody had swung a lead weight at him. The warmth of her, the feel, the scent of her. All of it. Finally . . .
Turning his face into her hair, he squeezed his eyes closed. Finally . . .
Then, because he needed to have a chance to say it, even if she wasn’t awake, he murmured, “I’m sorry, duchess. I’m so damn sorry.”
She mumbled under her breath, the words thick and heavy, indistinct. Then, she shoved her face against his neck, as though she wanted to block out everything. Including him.
“Okay, sweet girl. You sleep.” She apparently needed it. Hell, how long had it been since she’d rested? It was pretty clear she realized what a dangerous game she’d been involved in. She had to have known.
Hooking her bag on his elbow, he rose, cradling her against his chest. He took another second to kick the door shut and then he headed into the hotel, taking just enough time to look around. Although he suspected he’d feel it if there was a problem, he wasn’t about to turn his back on years of training. Especially not now, with the precious burden he carried.
The walk to the elevator, then to the room, somehow seemed to both take hours, and end in just seconds. He was all too aware of his own exhaustion catching up with him, all too aware of the fact that he still didn’t know what he’d say. All too aware of the fact that he needed to figure it out.
By the time he hit his hotel room, though, it was pretty clear she wasn’t going to be waking up.
The room was quiet, clean as a whistle. The clothes he’d left behind several days earlier were exactly where he’d left them, although it was obvious the housekeeping staff had been in there in the meantime. He scowled at the neatly made bed, looked at Dru’s face. Scowled at the bed again, and then sat near the foot, leaning upward to snag the comforter and sheets, dragging them down with one hand so he wouldn’t have to let her go.
Not ever . . . you hear me, he thought, rubbing his cheek against her hair. Not ever letting you go. Not if I have anything to do about it.
A fine line formed between her eyes, and she made another one of those grumbling little sounds under her breath, turning her face into his chest.
Okay. They’d save all of that for later.
Rising, he laid her down on the bed, taking a few minutes to strip her shoes off, and then, because he wasn’t about to risk it, he also searched her for weapons. She had a slim-fitting holster under the top she wore, with a gun. He took that, along with a knife that had been tucked into a sheath on the holster. Those, combined with a couple of weapons in her bag, he locked inside the in-room safe. She probably wouldn’t leave without her weapons. But he wasn’t going to take that chance.
He kept his cuffs with him, although he did lock his own weapon up in the safe. Barely any room left in there, he thought. A quick trip to the bathroom, then he brushed his teeth, washed his face. After that, the only other thing he bothered with was kicking off his shoes and shucking his shirt.
Joss didn’t trust himself to do anything else; he kept his jeans on. Slipping into the bed beside her, he pushed up onto his elbow, staring down