...He didn’t bother with any of the lights as he navigated through the house. The soothing darkness was welcome to the frenzy of his day, and he moved with ease past antique furniture and closed doors, heading straight for his bedroom. Each step whispered across his senses. Would she be naked? Or clad in the black silk nothing he had given her for Christmas last year? If asleep, her hair would be spilling over the white pillowcase, splashes of life in a world that could very easily have gone sterile on him. Loneliness had a way of driving people inward. Quin was grateful Annie was there to hold his at bay a few years longer.

A lone lamp burned on the nightstand, but she was not asleep as he had hoped. She lay curled up on her side of the bed, the thick creamy duvet tucked up around her chin, her eyes wide and lost in thought. They slid to him as soon as he stepped inside the room.

“You’re home.”

“I’m home.” Her soft voice drew Quin closer, shedding his coat along the way. “You’re still awake.”

“I am.”

Annie tracked every step until he stood by the edge of the bed. Then she reached out from beneath the blankets and caressed his thigh. The muscle automatically quivered at her touch, anticipating the feel of her skin against his, silken and hot as they wound together.

Quin covered her hand, but the first stroke skidded over the back of her fingers. He frowned and glanced down. “What happened?” When she tried to pull back, he caught her wrist, exposing more of her arm so that the duvet fell away from her upper body. Bandages wound around the individual fingers. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing. Just some scratches. I don’t even feel them anymore.” Tugging, she tried to pull him toward her, but with the difference in their sizes, it was a nominal gesture. “I’ve been waiting for you to come home all day. Get in here.”

He let her go and stepped back, quickly stripping out of his clothes. She watched every movement, searching over his body as if it was the first time. The attention ignited the tinder already sparking at his spine, licking in long flames up and down his body until every inch of him was hungry for more than her gaze. He had had many lovers over the years, but few had fired him as much as Annie did. Perhaps, only one ever had, but that was a name he dared not allow admittance when he wasn’t alone.

“Were you hard all day, thinking of me?” Annie whispered.

Quin fisted his thick erection, pulling slowly. It was agony for both of them, but an agony well worth it in the end. “The auction was hell,” he admitted. “There was a woman two rows up who wears the same perfume you do. Every time I thought I could focus on the auctioneer, I’d get another whiff of it and wish I was home with you, instead.”

“Did it distract you enough not to make any frivolous buys?”

He chuckled. “Afraid I’ll waste all my money, are you?”

“It helps gauge your mood.” She slid back, pushing the blanket out of the way to allow him room to join her. “When you spend too much, you have a tendency to take it out on me in bed.”

The twinkle in her eye stopped any indignation that might have arisen. “Is that what you’re hoping for? For me to take it out on you?”

“I just want you.” Annie held out her hand. “Please, Quin.”

For a brief moment, he thought he caught a glimpse of something haunted in her luminous eyes. It stabbed through his chest, sharp and painful, but as soon as he recognized it, it was gone, replaced by the hunger he knew so well.

“How am I supposed to deny you?” He leaned forward, resting his knuckles on the soft cotton sheets, and the mattress bowed beneath his knee. “But I think I’m going to take my time with it tonight. Take it slow.”

Annie rolled to face him as he slid in next to her. “You’re here. That’s all I care about.”