Vance stopped stroking my back, his arm went tight around me and he rolled to face me. This trapped my hand between us and his other hand went to rest on my hip.
There was a small window at the head of the bed and I could just barely make out the planes and angles of his face in the moonlight.
He still didn’t say anything but I could see he was looking at me.
“I’m sorry about the tequila,” I whispered, changing to a different subject.
Finally he spoke but quietly. “Don’t worry about it.”
“You licked my lip,” I reminded him.
“You tasted of cherries,” he told me.
Oh right, Jet’s lip balm.
“I forgot.”
“Drinking is my problem, I won’t make it yours,” he told me, his deep voice was relaxed, even sleepy, but there was still that fierce undercurrent that he used when he was talking to Roam.
I didn’t say anything.
I waited, a few minutes passed and then I went on. “I can’t believe you shot Sal Cordova in the ass.” I couldn’t help myself, I thought it was funny even though I knew I shouldn’t.
I smiled at him in the moonlight.
“Seemed a good place to aim,” he told me and I felt my body go slightly stiff.
“You meant to shoot him in the ass?” I asked.
“He is an ass,” was Vance’s reply.
“That’s true,” I told him and then relaxed again.
I sighed and was silent for a few beats.
Then I said, “What did you mean when you told me you never expected to get the chance at something so sweet?” I whispered in a voice so low I thought maybe he wouldn’t hear it.
His hands slid along the silk of my nightgown, down over my bottom then I felt the fingers of one hand curl into the material. He pulled it up and then one of his arms went tight at my waist, the other hand skimmed over my bottom and pulled me deeper into him.
What he didn’t do was answer.
Or, maybe, that was his answer.
I held my breath through his movements, my belly fluttering but then his hand and arm went still.
“Vance? Did you hear me?” I said a little louder.
“I heard you.” That’s all he said.
“Um,” I started, knowing it was likely rude but finding courage in the dark and saying it all the same, “from what I hear, you’ve had a lot of sweet things.”
“No. I’ve had a lot of easy things.”
“I know a couple of girls you’ve –”
“None of them smelled of melons, tasted of cherries or ended up worth the effort,” he said bluntly.
I blinked at him in the dark. “Are you saying I’ll be worth the effort?” I asked.