Opposition (Lux, #5)(28)

I pulled out a dazzling, glittering blue gown. There was a split all the way up to the hip, and despite everything, I pictured Kat wearing it.

And then I pictured Kat out of it.

That image hit me like a punch in the gut.

Great. Now I would be a walking hard-on all morning. Just what I needed.

Finally, I found a pair of white pants that looked like they’d fit and a short-sleeve black sweater. There was also a pair of flats in her size. After gathering up the stuff, I turned and walked back into the main room, happening to glance down at the nightstand next to the bed.

I came to a complete stop.

Drawers were pulled open. One of them had an adult store’s worth of toys in it. Man, the mayor and his wife sure liked to get freaky. In the top drawer were other . . . interesting things. Among them was a black box full of sealed wrappers.

Really not necessary, but . . .

I grabbed a handful and slid them in my back pocket.

Nothing like being prepared.

Smiling to myself, I pivoted around and hustled back to where Dawson waited.

“What’s up with the shit-eating grin of yours?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

He shot me a look that said he knew better. “You need anything else?” When I shook my head, he started away and then paused. “Rolland wants you at the conference today?”

My free hand on the doorknob, I nodded. “He wants Kat there, too.”

Dawson frowned.

“We need to be prepared for anything,” I told him.

Drawing in a deep breath, he nodded, and I watched him retreat down the hall. Easing into the room, I was surprised to see Kat sitting up in bed. Hair air-dried, it tumbled down in messy waves, then fell over her shoulders and down her arms.

“Is everything okay?” She rubbed her eyes with balled fists.

“Yeah. Found you some clothes.” For a moment, I just stared at her as she lowered her hands, tossed off the covers, and stood. My heart thumped.

Sometimes—and it happened at random moments—I was blown away by the fact that she was mine and I was hers. This was one of those times.

I offered the stolen clothes. “For you,” I added, like a complete idiot.

A tired smile appeared on her face as she took the clothes from me. “Thank you.”

I watched her shuffle past me and disappear into the bathroom, and I stood there as the water came on. It was still way too early and she could’ve slept more, but being the selfish ass I could be, I was happy she was awake.

Sucked I wasn’t getting to watch her change clothes, though. That would’ve really given me the picker upper I needed. But then the door opened, and I was still standing in the middle of the room as she stepped out.

Lucky me, the pants I’d given her hadn’t really fit.

They were about a size too small, hugging her shapely ass like a glove, and that made me a very happy man.

Kat caught my stare and rolled her eyes. “Thank God these pants are stretchy.”

“I’m having inappropriately timed thoughts right about now,” I told her.

She crossed her arms under her chest, drawing my attention to another place on her body I might be a wee bit fascinated with. “I’m not really surprised.”

“Just thought I’d let you know.”

As she walked past me and bent at the waist to place the shoes on the floor, I really got an eyeful, and I stopped thinking. Maybe I was exhausted and I didn’t care about getting my priorities straight while the quietness of dawn seeped in. Maybe it was the dress I saw in the closet or all the junk in the drawer. Maybe when it all came down to it, I was a dude and had sex on the brain no matter the situation. Either way, I stopped thinking, and that was a common problem of mine whenever I was around her.

I reached out, snagging her right off the floor, lifting her up with one arm around her waist. A startled sound escaped her lips as I hauled her against my chest, digging my hand through her hair as I pressed my mouth against hers.

I kissed her deeply, taking everything I could into me—her taste, her tongue, and every soft sound she made against my mouth. In the back of my head, I knew this wasn’t something I should be doing. Hell, we should be plotting and all that crap, but screw it.

Like always, I wanted her.

Setting her down on her feet, I traced a path of tiny kisses to that small earlobe of hers as I slipped my fingers under the hem of the sweater. Her skin was warm, soft as spun silk. I pulled back, lifting the sweater over her head, dropping it on the floor.

I blazed a new trail down her throat, kissing each of those little yellow daisies, lingering on some more than others. Then, I turned her around, and the air stilled in my lungs.

The scars.

A low, inhuman-sounding thing rose from my throat.

“Daemon?” She glanced over her shoulder.

I swallowed. “I . . . It’s okay.”

But it wasn’t okay.

I hated seeing the scars, even though they were nothing more than a faint pink with smoothed edges, but they would always be a reminder of the pain she suffered and the helplessness I had felt. Bad times.

Touching her shoulders lightly, I lowered my mouth to just below her shoulder blades and placed a reverent kiss against each of the scars, wishing I could somehow wipe them away, erase the memory of the whole damn thing. Closing my eyes, I moved my mouth to the base of her neck and made myself a promise I would do terrible things to keep.