In Death 12 - Betrayal in Death

herself. She could always get past it. She'd swallow back the bitter dregs of the fear and get on with things. She'd remember who she was now, and not what she'd been.
    A victim. Always a victim.
    Work. She drew a deep breath and lifted her head. She'd get back to work where she had control. And power. And direction.
    She was steadier when he came back with the water and crouched at her feet.
    Steady enough for suspicion to worm its way through relief and gratitude. "Did you put a soother in this?"
    "Drink it."
    "Damn it, Roarke."
    "Damn it, Eve," he said mildly, and drank half the glass himself. "Drink the rest."
    She frowned, and sipping slowly, studied him over the rim. He looked a little frazzled, which was a rare thing for him. A little weary, which was even more rare.
    It wasn't work he needed, she realized, but rest. Rest he wouldn't take, even if she put the work aside for the night. He'd just wait until she'd run down, until she slept, then he'd keep going.
    But he wasn't die only one who knew how to press the right buttons. She set the empty glass aside. "Satisfied?"
    "More or less. You should leave this until morning and get some sleep."
    Perfect, she thought, but made sure her nod was reluctant. "I guess. I can't keep my mind focused anyway, but..."
    "But what?"
    "Would you stay here with me?" She reached for his hand. "I know it's stupid, but..."
    "No, it's not." He got into the sleep chair with her, stroking her hair as her arms came tightly around him. "Just turn it off until morning."
    "I will." Just as she'd keep her arms around him to make sure he did the same. "Don't go away, okay?"
    "I won't."
    And knowing he wouldn't leave her, would rest, she closed her eyes, and let herself drift into dreamless sleep.
    After a while, a long while, so did he.
    She woke first, still wrapped around him, when the dark began to soften and thin. She stayed very still so as not to lose the rare opportunity to watch him sleep.
    Love struck her, as it did often and without warning. Not the steady day-to-day feeling she'd grown used to, but the hot, wild spurt of it that geysered up and filled her with so many feelings they couldn't be separated.
    Delight, confusion, possessiveness, lust, and a kind of smugness that butted right up against wonder.
    He was so ridiculously beautiful, she doubted she'd ever fully comprehend how he could be hers.
    He'd wanted her. Out of all the women in the world, he'd wanted her. Wanted, hell, she thought, grinning now. Pursued, demanded. Taken. And while she could admit all of that was exciting, he'd gone one step further.
    He cherished.
    She'd never believed anyone would, or could. And had never believed there was enough inside her to give all of those things back.
    So here they were, the cop and the billionaire, squished together in an office sleep chair like a couple of overworked drones.
    It was just fucking great.
    She was still grinning when those fabulous eyes of his opened. Clear as blue crystal, alert, and ever so mildly amused. "Good morning, Lieutenant."
    "I never get how you can come awake like that, from sleep to full alert, and without coffee."
    "Annoying, isn't it?"
    "Yeah." He was warm, he was beautiful, he was hers. She could have lapped him up like cream. And why not, she thought. Why the hell not?
    "But since you're awake." She slid her hand down his body, found him hard and ready. "All the way awake. I've got a little job for you."
    "Do you?" Her mouth was already roaming over his face, just missing his lips in teasing little bites. To his considerable surprise, and considerable pleasure, her fingers got very busy. They closed around him, not teasing at all, as her tongue laved thirstily along his throat.
    "Well then," he managed. "Anything for the NYPSD. Christ!" He could all but feel his eyes roll back in his head. "Am I on the clock?"
    Sometime later, feeling loose and limber, she came out of the kitchen with two mugs of coffee. It surprised her that Roarke still sat in the half-dark. The cat was on his lap now, and with the faintest of smiles on his face, Roarke stroked Galahad's back.
    "I think, for an expert consultant, civilian, you've loafed long enough."
    "Mmm-hmm." He took the coffee she offered. "Shutting down early to sleep, morning sex, bringing me coffee. You're very wifely these days. Are you taking care of me, Eve?"
    "Hey, if you don't want the coffee, I'll drink it myself. And so what if I am? And don't call me wifely. It pisses me off."
    "I do want