Torn (A Wicked Saga, #2)(6)

“Hey.” Two fingers curled under my chin and lifted my head. His eyes were bright and beautiful. “You sure you’re okay?”

I forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m just tired.” That wasn’t exactly a lie.

“Then let’s hit the bed.”

I didn’t protest as Ren rose and picked up my hand, gently hauling my butt off the couch. He led me toward the bedroom door and I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see Tink peeking around the corner, but he was nowhere to be seen. I was surprised that he was missing a prime opportunity to annoy Ren.

I climbed into the bed and got settled on my side—because now I had my own side, the left side, and Ren had the right side since he’d been staying with me each night for the past week. I watched him strip down. It was a show I didn’t want to ever miss, no matter what was going on in my head or with my body.

Ren always started with his shirt, and he took it off in a way that I found fascinating. He reached behind him, grabbing the fabric at the nape of his neck and tugging it off over his head. I don’t know what it was about that, but it made all the lady bits stand up and take notice.

So did his abs and pecs.

Because our job required us to go toe to toe with a creature that could punt kick you like a football, we had to stay in shape, but I had a feeling that his flawless six-pack and defined chest had been some kind of gift from God. As were those amazing indents on either side of his lean hips. They were so perfect they were almost indecent.

Ren unhooked the band that circled his stomach, just below the chest, and got down to removing the daggers at his side. He placed them next to mine on the dresser. His and hers weapons were the way of romance in the Order. Then he kicked off his boots and two more stakes joined his stash. Then his socks came off.

His chin was bent as his hands dropped to his tactical pants. A button come undone and down went the zipper. I clutched the bedspread, and he lifted his gaze. “You like what you see, don’t you?” he asked as he shucked off his pants.

I nodded and then said, “Yes,” in case he doubted it.

A slow smile graced his lips. “I like you watching me.”

Ren sometimes went commando, and that was incredibly hot to think of. Today he had on tight black boxer briefs, and I could tell he really did like me watching. I could see the hard, thick ridge of that approval straining the material.

My stomach dipped as he picked up his clothes, folding them neatly and placing them on the chair by the door. Then he disappeared into the bathroom. We obviously hadn’t done anything of the fun and naughty nature since last Wednesday, and we only had sex that Tuesday night and Wednesday morning. Before then, we’d messed around, and it had been wonderful, but we hadn’t spent a lot of time together. And before Ren, there had only been Shaun and the one time. A burst of sadness lit up my chest at the thought of the boy I’d loved and lost three years ago. The pain was still there, probably would always be there, but it was fading like I guessed . . . I guessed it was supposed to.

But now there was Ren, and I refused to lose him, too.

The bathroom door opened. Our relationship was still so new that a fine tremble coursed through my belly as he approached the bed.

“So, I’m wondering about something,” he said, stopping at his side.

I focused on his face. “What?”

“Why are you clutching the blanket like it’s going to run away from you?”

“Oh.” I let go of the blanket and scooted down onto my back. “I don’t know.”

A half-grin appeared as he slipped under the covers. He turned off the lamp and rolled over onto his side, facing me. “You’re really weird tonight.”

Oh dear. “No, I’m not.”

He carefully placed his arm over my hips and shifted so the front of his body was pressed against mine. I tipped my head back and turned toward him. I couldn’t make out his features at all since I kept heavy curtains on my windows. The room was pitch black, but I could feel his gaze.

And I could feel his hard length against my hip.

I couldn’t help it. I immediately thought of him in this bed, moving over me and in me. An ache blossomed between my thighs. I shifted, wiggling my hips, and Ren let out a deep, rumbling sound. I moved again.

His fingers splayed across my outer hip as he dipped his head, brushing his lips over my temple. “You moving like that is going to drive me crazy.”

My toes curled. “We could, you know, do something about it.”

He made that sound again, and I felt the tips of my breasts tingle. “Ivy, we’ve got to take things easy for a little bit.”

“What?” I whispered, turning onto my side. I placed my hands on his chest. In the darkness, he kissed my forehead. “Do you not . . . want to?”

The second I asked that question I wanted to kick myself in the face. What in the hell was wrong with me? I was a halfling. And admittedly, I was feeling a wee bit unsure about things, like, for example, should I even be coming onto him when I was this . . . this thing he was here to literally kill? Was I betraying him in a way, his—

“Babe, I want nothing more than to get between those legs with my hands, my mouth, and most definitely my dick, but I’m not going to risk hurting you.” His hand flexed along my hip. “So for right now, it’s me and my hand on my dick and thoughts of you naked underneath me, coming and screaming my name.”