Then I turned.
Vance was in bed with me.
He was awake, very awake and staring at me, face blank. I was also now very awake and staring at him, face probably not blank.
My heart had stopped. I felt something crawling through my system, something weird, good mingled with bad.
Fear and hope.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered.
I had turned within his arm. It was still around my waist, hand curled into my hip against the bed. When I asked my question, his fingers bit into my hip as they tightened.
“Had duty in the surveillance room last night,” was Vance’s mysterious answer.
I blinked at him. Then I remembered.
Oh my God.
The cameras.
How in the hell was I always forgetting the cameras?
“Crowe –” I started, my heart beating now, double time.
“I did not like what I saw,” Vance interrupted me, his voice underlining his words and a shiver slithered across my skin at his tone.
“Crowe –” I began again.
“He touches you again, there’s gonna be a problem.” The tone of his voice, if it could be believed, was deteriorating and I got the distinct impression there already was a problem.
Um.
Yikes.
“Crowe –” I tried again.
“I want to know you understand me,” Vance kept going.
“Crowe –”
“Do you understand me?” he asked. He sounded supremely pissed off now and edging toward impatient.
“Please listen to me –” I started.
“None of it. Watchin’ TV together. You curled up to him on the couch and definitely not his tongue in your f**kin’ mouth and his hands up your f**kin’ shirt.” His voice was getting dangerous or, I should say, more dangerous and his face was no longer blank.
“If you’d just –”
“Jules, do you f**king understand me?” He was keeping his control but I could tell just barely. I could tell this because his eyes had gone hard and his mouth had gone tight.
That was it.
I sat up and shouted, “Shut up, Crowe!”
He came up with me, face like thunder, eyes flashing and I knew he was ready to blow.
One look at his face and I thought, f**k it. It was now or never.