Wicked Burn(21)
Author: Beth Kery

He stared coldly at her a few seconds before he exhaled, the taut muscles of his abdomen relaxing slightly. “Not so sure I will, though.”

“You always have before.”

“That’s debatable,” he replied sullenly. His expression shifted as if he’d heard himself and hadn’t cared for the sound. He wore a small, sheepish grin by the time his gaze met hers. She returned the smile.

“What’s your play called?” she asked softly.

His eyes flickered over her bare legs. He reached for the knitted throw folded across the back of the couch. “Lie back,” he directed. When she did, he picked up the manuscript in his lap, replacing it with her feet. “Alias X,” he finally replied. “Do you want to see it? We’re having a run-through tomorrow night,” he said while he tucked the blanket around her.

“Are you worried I’ll get trampled by the fleeing crowd on opening night?” she murmured.

He palmed one of her thighs through the blanket. “You’ve got good legs. You’ll likely get out alive.” He smiled at her muffled snort of laughter. “You’re better off seeing it tomorrow night. No one likes to be around me on opening night. No one. Not even my mother.”

“Hmmm,” she hummed contentedly from inside her warm knit cocoon. “Godzilla’s night to rampage, huh?”

He gave her a glance of dark amusement before he briskly picked up the manuscript. Niall sensed he was finished chatting, but it didn’t feel like a dismissal. She found herself getting sleepy at the sound of his scratching pencil and the lulling sensations of his movements vibrating down into her feet.

“It’s gonna be great,” she muttered sleepily, more to herself than to him.

This time she slept without dreams.

SIX

Vic put two extra scoopfuls of coffee into the filter before he switched on the pot the next morning and headed toward the bathroom. He needed the extra caffeine. Niall’s sleeping form on the couch drew his gaze. His pace slowed and then stalled for a few seconds as he examined her. Her hair spread across a pillow and partially covered her face. The morning sunlight shimmered in the golden strands, almost making them seem alive. She looked so small huddled beneath the knit blanket. He could easily imagine how good it would feel having her soft, warm body mold against his as she slowly awakened to his touch. The fantasy was potent enough to make his cock lurch almost painfully against his sweatpants.

He forced himself to move away from her. He smiled as he turned on the shower in the bathroom. Niall hadn’t moved a millimeter since she’d fallen asleep last night. She must have been exhausted. Not too surprising after the great sex they’d had, Vic thought with a trace of smugness. He’d slept solidly himself for three and a half hours afterward—a small miracle, given Vic’s typical incessant restlessness in the weeks before an opening.

By the time he exited the bathroom door in a billow of steam ten minutes later, he felt fantastic—strong and full of purpose. As he poured himself a cup of coffee, he glanced up distractedly at the sound of someone pounding loudly on a door out in the hallway.

“Niall? Honey? Wake up!” a woman called.

Vic catiously set his cup on the counter and moved out into the hall of his apartment, ear cocked to catch the voices.

“Why didn’t she ever give us a key in case of an emergency?” the woman asked impatiently.

“She was supposed to have lived here for only two months. There wasn’t any need,” a man responded in a clipped voice. Another round of loud knocking ensued. Vic stepped back into the living room and gently brushed aside the hair from Niall’s face.

“Niall. Wake up, baby,” he ordered.

His mouth pressed into a hard line when she moved restlessly and then settled back into deep sleep. The people in the hall conversed in a tense tone before they started another round of door hammering that made his jaw clench in irritation.

“She’s not in there.”

Vic registered the amazed expressions on the couple’s faces when they turned around a moment later at his harsh proclamation.

Niall’s parents, he thought immediately when he saw the woman’s face. It was like looking into a magic mirror to see how Niall would look in twenty-odd years. If that was the case, Niall was one hell of a lucky woman. The woman who stood in front of him was a knockout—more polished than Niall, less approachable, diamond-hard . . . completely flawless. Vic found himself staring at her nose, not realizing until later that he searched for what he missed—the adorable imperfection of Niall’s freckles. Her eyes—not hazel like her daughter’s, but instead a startling shade of azure—flickered over his body. Vic forced his expression into neutrality.

Great. Stellar first impression. He wore only a towel.

“How do you know Niall isn’t in there?” the tall, distinguished-looking man barked sharply. “Did you hear her leave this morning?”

“No. She hasn’t left for work yet.”

The man glanced back uneasily at Niall’s front door. “But you said—”

“I’m right here, Dad.” Vic turned at the sound of Niall’s low, sleep-roughened voice. Sunlight flooded her from behind, making the exposed skin of her legs and face look ethereally pale.

Vic didn’t need to look at Niall’s parents in the tense seconds that followed to know that they were doing the equivalent of manually lifting their lower lips off the hallway carpet. Niall’s face, on the other hand, looked like it had been carved from marble.

“Is it an emergency?” Niall asked, dread lacing her tone.

Her father recovered first from his shock at seeing his daughter half-dressed in the company of a nearly naked man. “Yes, Niall. It is.”

Vic tensed unconsciously at Niall’s father’s tone of voice. Something in it seemed to imply that Niall was somehow responsible for whatever the emergency was. Vic didn’t take too kindly to that insinuation, especially when he saw that whatever tiny remnant of color Niall possessed in her cheeks had faded completely.

She ducked her head as she turned. “I’ll just get my things,” she murmured.

Vic glanced back at the hostile-looking couple before he let the door close heavily with them on the other side of it. Trying to make “nice-nice” with Niall’s parents at that moment would have been a big mistake.

“I’m sorry,” Niall said a few seconds later when she came out of his bedroom. She paused as she hastily zipped her leather boot. “I don’t think I’ll be able to make your play tonight.”