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My eyes drop to her hand against my chest.
Felt what?
“Your answer.”
Fuck me. She really can hear me.
Not words. Nothing that clean or easy. But whatever moves through me when I look at her feeds into whatever exists between us, and somehow her siren catches enough of it to understand.
Echo’s thumb brushes once over my chest. “You want me here.”
The hum beneath her palm deepens.
Her smile grows.
Apparently, my fucking frequency is a snitch.
I shake my head and step away before she discovers what other embarrassing shit the thing is willing to tell her.
My cut comes off first, dropped over the chair in the corner. I toe off my boots, strip off my shirt, and shove my jeans down, leaving them in a pile before straightening in my underwear.
Echo’s eyes travel over me.
Slowly.
I catch her staring.
Her chin lifts. “What?” My eyebrow goes up. “You stared first.”
True.
She pulls off her jeans, kicks them aside, then pauses with her hands at the hem of her shirt before apparently deciding it stays. By the time she crawls beneath the covers wearing nothing but that shirt and her underwear, my hellhound has developed several opinions about how tonight could go.
I tell the bastard to shut the fuck up and climb in beside her.
Echo rolls toward me immediately with no hesitation.
I open my arm, and she moves straight into it, fitting herself against my chest while one of her legs slides between mine. My arm wraps around her waist, pulling her closer until her back settles against me, her silver hair spilling across my pillow and tickling my jaw.
Then something happens that makes no fucking sense.
My hellhound stops pacing.
What the fuck?
The beast that has spent my entire existence prowling behind my ribs, pushing, clawing, burning, always ready for the next fight, simply settles.
No growl vibrating through my bones.
No hellfire pushing hot beneath my skin.
No restless need to move, hunt, fight, or destroy.
Just Echo breathing against my arm.
In… out…
My chest starts following the same rhythm without me trying.
