Insatiable Craving: 2 (Insatiable Nights) by Rosalie Stanton Page A

realize how profoundly stupid it was to close her eyes in a bathtub, especially being as tired as she was. At the moment, though, the part of her brain connected to higher reasoning couldn’t be bothered.
    It was only a few minutes, after all.
    * * * * *
     
    “Ginny?”
    She frowned, chilled to the bone. “Hmmm?”
    “Sorry, I was worried,” she heard from a thousand miles away. “When you didn’t answer, I kinda—well, I might’ve broken your lock.”
    She knew the words but they made no sense. And while a part of her understood Razor’s presence in her bathroom wasn’t normal, she couldn’t make heads or tails as to why. “Ah, hassbert,” she said. Then blinked. Some of the clouds fogging her mind began to fade. “Razor… What?”
    “Hassbert? What’s a hassbert?”
    “A what?”
    He looked at her a moment longer, then shook his head, chuckling. “You’re out of it, aren’t you?”
    “Outta huh?”
    “Guess that talk’s gonna have to wait until tomorrow.” A shadow fell over her face, followed by the sound of splashing water. Then the drain gurgled. “Come on, cutie. Let’s get you into bed.”
    Ginny didn’t resist when he grabbed her by the arm and tugged. She didn’t fight him, not even when the cold air smacked her wet skin or the sensation of little dribbles of water made their way down her body. Something was off, she knew, but her tired mind was too sluggish to put the pieces together. The basics seemed right. Razor was here—he was supposed to be here. His big hands were on her shoulders, steadying her as her wobbly feet touched the ground. Those hands disappeared for only a second before returning with a big cushy towel in tow.
    “Let’s get you to bed.”
    “Hokay,” she said, smiling up at him. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re pretty?”
    He chuckled and turned her toward the door. “I’ve been called many things,” he said, edging her forward. The slight pressure at her back jump-started her feet, though it was likely by the grace of autopilot she found her way to the bedroom.
    “Well, you are,” she said, climbing onto the bed. The towel fell somewhere, exposing her again to the cold, but she didn’t mind. In a few seconds she’d be under the blankets and the cold would go away.
    “I got this ugly scar that says otherwise.”
    Ginny huffed, clumsily grasping the comforter and dragging it down, but she didn’t make it very far. The next thing she knew, Razor’s hands were on her and the mattress was at her back. Again, her mind fought for some semblance of awareness, but was met with a persuasive cocoon of exhaustion.
    “I think your scar’s sexy,” she said. It was the truth—on his otherwise flawless face, that one clean mark was the only thing about him that reassured her he wasn’t physically perfect—though for as well as he’d loved her body today, she might be mistaken where that was concerned.
    “Yeah, well, you don’t know how I got it.” Razor hovered over her, his dancing eyes roaming the length of her body. “Such a shame.”
    “Hmm?”
    “I wanted to undress you slowly. Kiss your every delicious inch the first time I saw you naked.”
    The words were enough to coax a small whimper from Ginny’s lips as a little shock rode its way to her clit. She spread her legs in welcome. “We can have sex.”
    He barked a laugh. “Go to sleep.”
    “I’m not tired.”
    “Liar.”
    “I’m not. I want you.”
    “I can wait.” Razor took the corners of her comforter and pulled it snug over her body. “And we do need to talk.”
    “Mmm.”
    “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ginny.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering just long enough for her to grasp him by the wrist.
    “Stay.”
    “What?”
    “Stay. This is a big bed.”
    He laughed nervously. “You’re delirious. Awake Ginny is going to be mad enough I broke in. She’d be downright furious if she woke up to find me beside her.”
    “Awake Ginny is me.” She tried and failed to