“I like the sound of it, but…no. Only in public or”—he regarded her evenly—“when we make love. Sit.” He patted the sofa next to him, then smiled.
She slid in next to him. As soon as her thigh touched his, she felt anchored. The world was in its rightful place. The food looked delicious, and her stomach grumbled.
Though he continued to read as she ate, he rested a hand near her shoulders and idly caressed her. When finished she pushed away the plate.
The bed had been tidied up—the quilt pulled straight and all that equipment put away somewhere out of sight. Not long ago she’d been stretched out there with Theo making love to her.
“What is it?” Theo massaged her back, leaned in and kissed her cheek, then settled back and waited, still massaging.
“Does”—she took a breath—“everyone have sex like that? Like we did?” She looked sidelong at him. The corners of his lips twitched upward. “Is it always that wonderful?”
“Hmm. No, perhaps to the second. Definitely a no to the first. So, you liked it?”
She shut her eyes a second. Sent back in time to how she’d felt, how she’d surrendered to him. “Yes. I did.”
“No regrets?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“No. None. Though”—she held up her wrists, turning them to show the bruises—“this I could do without.”
“Ah.” He sat up and examined her, kissed her skin. “I’m sorry. Next time I’ll use more padding.”
Next time. Inexplicably, that saddened her. How many more next times would there be? The lie she’d told ground at her. He was such a good man, if she’d told him first off, she was an assassin…maybe? If only there was some way to be sure of what he’d do before she told him.
When would she ever feel totally comfortable and safe?
She sniffed.
“You look sad. Is it hurting that much?” Theo gently touched her wrist.
“No. It’s not that. I’m just tired.”
“Tired, we can fix. Here, lie back on me.” He moved to put his leg along the sofa, with his back at the corner of the armrest, and let her snuggle into the space between his legs.
So warm and big. She felt safe, protected, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She let it, didn’t touch her face or sniff, and held in all the other tears so he wouldn’t know. Theo kept reading, the paper held up before him and to the right where she too could see it. After a while the sadness ebbed away. The words on the page coalesced.
“What is that?” she asked. Though really, she knew what it was, just not what he intended to do with it. A study of the Frankenstruct. Her heart beat faster. “You’re reading about me.”
He lowered the page. “Well, about frankenstructs in general.”
“Why?” She prayed the answer wouldn’t be a bad one. Was this that awful fate rolling in to get her? Her hands curled into fists.
“I’m putting forth a bill in parliament, proposing that frankenstructs be declared human and thus given all the rights of humans. We have to repeal another bill first, though. Hey, what’s this?” He took her closed hand in his, raised it, and kissed her until she relaxed. “It’s nothing for you to worry over. But it is important. Next week I fly down to speak on it before the members.
“You know, the report you wrote—it’s been used in part to set out this.”
“Could I help? Could I read this? Maybe I can tell you things that are missing or…wrong?”
He barely hesitated, and that was the best part. “Claire, that sounds like a good idea. Go ahead. If you want to write notes on it, there’s a pen on the table.” He laid the papers in her lap. “Even better, I’ll let you read the speech. This is important to me. I see it as a great injustice. You do understand that?”
“Yes.” She turned and smiled at him. “Thank you.” She kissed him on the mouth—a warm, soft kiss that he returned in the same way, their lips meeting as equals.
“Pour us both a glass of wine, love, before you start,” he said, tucking a loop of her hair behind her ear and kissing her there. “For once, I get to relax. You’re a godsend.”
Theo sat with Claire in the fork of his legs and contemplated how she’d come to him. A sip of the red wine went down sultry and sweet. Pages turned slowly with a faint rustle and with the occasional scratch of pen on paper. He grinned. What a delightful warm, rounded bundle. Secretary, lover, and strangely talented bodyguard all rolled into one and smelling of his lavender soap.
A pink love bite at the nape of her neck reminded him of their lovemaking. Extraordinary how she’d taken to this. There was nothing about her that disappointed him. Nothing. For a barest flicker of time, unease stirred, as if they tempted fate. He gulped another swallow of wine. Foolish thought.
Chapter Eighteen