Sweet Possession (Sweet #5)(29)

But she was too tired to defend herself. Too tired to argue with his ironclad opinion of her. It wasn’t as if she’d change it.

She nodded wearily, too tired to say the words. There was no way she’d keep the bitterness out of her voice anyway. It was better to just shut up and take the path of least resistance. For once.

“It’s been a long day. It’ll be another long day tomorrow. You should get some sleep,” he said. “I need to check with the hotel to see if we can get a trace.”

As if that was going to happen. Still, she wouldn’t mind getting comfortable and laying her head on her pillow. Without a word, she got up, rummaged around in a still-packed suitcase until she found a pair of cotton pajamas and then headed for the bathroom.

Her pajamas were her comfort item. Much like a security blanket or a special stuffed animal. They were old and probably had holes, but they were soft and comfortable and they made her feel safe.

Connor would probably laugh, and she’d be lucky if he didn’t sneak photos to send to the tabloids. What a blow to her image if she were photographed in pajamas with faded smiley faces on them.

When she came out of the bathroom, she blinked in surprise to see Connor shirtless on one side of the bed. He wore a pair of sweat pants—thank goodness—because she couldn’t handle seeing him in nothing but his underwear, although it did bring up the tantalizing question of whether he wore briefs or boxers.

Or . . . boxer briefs. She’d bet money he was a boxer brief kind of guy. Or maybe she just really liked the image of him in tight cotton, butt-molding briefs that hugged those muscular upper legs.

Mmmmm.

Okay, she had to stop because this was just ridiculous.

She trudged to her side of the bed, pleased to see that he’d already erected a barrier between them using cushions from the sofa. She wouldn’t have to forfeit any of her pillows to the cause.

He watched her as she pulled back the covers. She could feel his gaze resting on her, but she refused to look up. She crawled onto the mattress and turned her back to him as she pulled the comforter up over her shoulders.

There was a pregnant silence and then, “Good night, Lyric,” he murmured. She heard the click of the lamp and the room was plunged into darkness. Only a thin beam of light from the street squeezed through a tiny gap in the room darkening curtains.

Her heart thumped in her throat and she lay there so wound up and tense that her muscles ached. She hated this. Hated that being so close to Connor—in the same bed—made her so nervous she wanted to puke.

She forced her breathing to even out because even she could hear it stuttering past her lips. She gripped the covers protectively around her and huddled there, staring at the opposite wall.

She was never going to sleep.

“Connor?”

There was a brief pause. “Yeah?”

She gripped the covers a little tighter until her fingers went numb. “Why do you hate me so much?”

There was an uncomfortable pause. Then she felt him turn toward her on his side. She lay still, her fingers wrapped tightly around the sheet she held to her chin.

“I don’t hate you, Lyric.”

“You decided before you ever met me that you despised me. Nothing I do or say is going to change that.”

He sighed. “You didn’t exactly help your case when we met.”

“You looked at me like I was scum. No one is going to react well to that kind of judgment.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said again.

“You don’t like me either,” she said softly.

“I was a jerk tonight. I’ll be honest. I didn’t want this job. And you’re right. I had my mind made up about you before we ever met. That wasn’t . . . fair.”

“You’re wrong, you know.”

“About what?”

“I do take this seriously.”

Connor shifted again, and the next thing she knew, light flooded the room as he switched the lamp back on. She glanced over her shoulder to see him sit up in bed.

“Turn over so we can talk,” he said quietly.

She rolled and clutched one of the cushions between them to her chest.

“You need to consider the possibility that someone close to you is involved in this.”

She frowned. “But no one knows I’m here. I gave my band and my crew two weeks off. I was careful, Connor. I know you don’t think I was.”

“What about Paul? And your two . . . bodyguards?”

At least he hadn’t called them her f**k-buddies again. She sighed. Her head hurt. She wasn’t sure she’d ever gotten rid of the headache she’d had earlier.

“Lyric?”

“I think Paul knew too,” she said wearily. “And Trent and R.J. too. Don’t say it. I already feel like an idiot. But no one else knows. Or rather I didn’t tell anyone.”

“And you think the cops you introduced yourself to will keep your cover?”

She flushed and hugged the pillow a little tighter. “I was angry. You humiliated me.”

“Do you always react so outrageously when someone pisses you off?”

“Do you always allow people to get under your skin so badly?”

“Touché. So we’ve both reacted badly. I’m more at fault than you. This is a job. I’m supposed to be a professional. No matter how much you irritate me, it’s my job to keep cool and protect you.”