I go rigid beneath him. As screwed up as it is, I like coming along with him.

“I want to keep coming along with you,” I say.

“I know, cherub. But neither of us can live like this.”

His words make my heart pound harder, though I’m not sure if I feel dread or excitement. I guess it all depends on his reasons.

“Like what?” I ask.

He just squeezes me harder. “Nothing. Forget I mentioned it at all.”

Present

I wake to near darkness. A large leg has been thrown over mine and an arm is wrapped around my midsection.

Des.

Sometime during the final Harry Potter movie I fell asleep in his arms, my body spooned against his. And in the hours since, I’ve been reeled in tight against his chest, his body nearly encasing mine.

My clothes are still on, as are his, and yet something about this feels incredibly intimate.

I rub my eyes, dazedly taking in the dim room. Des’s shadows lurk in every corner, the sight of them makes me feel … safe.

I begin to move, only for Des’s grip to tighten on me, pulling me even closer. I let out a little squeak. I’m an overgrown man’s teddy bear at the moment.

The Bargainer stirs, nuzzling the back of my head. “You awake?” he asks, his voice sleep-roughened.

Instead of answering, I angle my head up and look into his eyes. Gone is the calculating edge to them, gone is his wiliness. Gone are the shields he hides behind.

Right now he’s just a tired, happy man.

He reaches up and runs a thumb over my lower lip. “I lied to you earlier, cherub, sleep does very much become you.”

I feel my face heat. I don’t know how he sees my reaction in the darkness, but his eyes move to my cheeks. “As does blushing.”

Tentatively I reach out and run my hand through Des’s white locks. “Tell me another secret,” I say.

His mouth twitches. “You give a siren a secret … and she asks for another.”

“You have so many of them,” I say. “Don’t be a Grinch.”

He lets out a long-suffering sigh, but the effect is ruined by the smile spreading across his lips.

He leans in close. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but if you want a secret …”

I wait.

“You drooled all over my chest during the second movie,” he confesses. “To be honest, I thought you were crying again.”

I push at him, laughing in spite of myself. “That’s not what I meant when I asked for a secret!”

He rolls onto his back, hooking an arm around my waist and taking me with him. And now he’s beginning to laugh as well. “I don’t make the rules, cherub, I just bend them.”

I straddle him, leaning in close. “I should be an exception.” I don’t even know what makes me say it, but it’s too late to take it back.

I expect Des to raise an eyebrow and spin my words with that silver tongue of his.

Instead, his face sobers, his expression turning serious. “You are.” His eyes drop to my mouth, his fingers pressing into my skin.

Most of the time this man leaves me confused. But not right now. Right now he and I are on the exact same page.

Slowly, I lower my head, and I press my mouth to his.

What’s better than waking up with Des in the morning?

Kissing Des in the morning.

My lips skim over his, savoring the taste of him. He pulls me closer, making a guttural noise as he deepens the kiss, working his tongue into my mouth.

This feels like unfinished business. He and I are that storm on the horizon, but now, finally, that storm is rolling in.

I move against him, wanting more, impatient for it.

“Callie,” he says, his voice strained, “can’t do that, love.”

There it is again.

Love.

“Say that again.”

“Love?”

I nod, pressing myself tighter to him. “I like the endearment.” I move against him again despite his warnings.

He makes a pained sound.

“So do I,” he breathes.

Slipping a hand between us, I unbutton his pants and dip a hand in.

“I really like it.”

Des hisses out a breath.

“Careful,” he warns against my lips. His eyes say an entirely different thing. They’re daring me to go further.

I break away from his mouth. “What if I don’t want to be careful?” I say, grabbing hold of him. My breathing deepens at the feel of him. Never have I done this with him. It feels righter than our kiss.

“What if I don’t want you to be careful?” I punctuate my words by moving my hand up and down. Up and down.

He rocks against me.

I lean in close. “The tough Bargainer isn’t so tough anymore.”

“Callie—”

“Love,” I correct, the siren beginning to seep into my words.

“Love,” he says, “I was planning this … the other … way … around.”

“Too bad,” I say.

“Wicked woman,” he says, his mouth curving into a smile.

I’m tempted to bring him to the edge, only to stop. That’s what the siren wants. Enjoy his lust, and then make him suffer.

But a bigger part of me wants to see this through to the very end. This man that left me, but agonized over it. This love who seemed jealous of my exes. This usually polished king that’s going to come in his pants because I want him to fall apart under my touch.