Romancing Lady Stone (A School of Gallantry Novella) by Delilah Marvelle

turned and paused, his eyes trailing the length of her. He snapped his gaze away. Toward the hearth. “We should sleep.”
    Her heart fluttered, sensing sleep was the last thing he wanted. She eyed him.
    His wet, black hair was casually raked back, accentuating those husky features and bright green eyes in a way that made her want to keep looking at him. His linen shirt was wide open to his abdomen, showcasing a muscle-defined chest and a well-chiseled stomach.
    Gad was he ever beautiful. And that didn’t include what she had seen in the bathhouse.
    He thumbed toward the chair, still not looking at her. “I will take the chair.”
    She doubted he would get any sleep that way.
    He settled into the chair and slid down, resting his neck on the curve of the wood. He stretched out long, trouser-clad legs, keeping his eyes on his boots. “Good night, Lady Stone.”
    She crossed her arms tighter against her breasts. She couldn’t let him sleep in that chair whilst she took the bed. It wasn’t a large bed, she knew, but it also wasn’t the smallest, either. They could fit. “Would you rather sleep with me, Mr. Levin?”
    “No.”
    “You would sleep better,” she softly pressed.
    “I doubt it. You are half naked and I can see everything through the linen of that shirt.”
    Her cheeks warmed knowing he actually looked.
    He closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest, shifting against the chair. “I ask that you get into bed, Lady Stone. I am trying to do the right thing.”
    She couldn’t believe this man had ever been involved in criminal endeavors. He was far too honest. And too nice. “Mr. Levin.”
    His eyes remain closed. “What?”
    “You paid for the room. You deserve good rest.”
    “If you cease talking, dorogaya moya , I will get rest,” he gruffly said, eyes still closed.
    “I am not about to desist.”
    His eyes snapped open. “You want me to sleep with you in that excuse of a bed? Knowing that our bodies will be touching?”
    She pressed her tongue hard against the inside of her teeth. “We will manage.” To demonstrate that she meant it, she crawled onto the bed and yanked the linens she carried over with her onto it. She could feel his eyes probing her as she pushed her bare legs beneath the cool linens and coverlet. Yanking his linen shirt down as far as it would go, lest it show off more than it already did, she scooted as far over to the edge as possible. And waited.
    He sat up in the chair and said something in Russian.
    “Pardon?” she asked.
    He fell back against the chair, setting both hands against the sides of his head. “I am a former criminal who has not lain with a woman in almost a year.”
    “You could have taken advantage of me many times. But you didn’t. Did you?”
    His hands dropped.
    She yanked the linens up to her chin and sank against the pillow. “Are you coming?”
    He huffed out a breath. His chair creaked as he rose from it.
    As conversationally as she could, she offered, “With our backs to each other, we will fit.”
    The floorboards creaked beneath his weight as he made his way toward her. He paused beside the bed and lingered. “Lady Stone.”
    She tugged the linen down from her chin and glanced up at him. “Yes?”
    Dragging a hand through his still-damp hair, he dropped a heavy hand back to his side. “Why do you continue to trust me?”
    It was endearing that he actually sought to protect her from himself. “You have more than proven yourself, Mr. Levin.”
    “Have I?” His voice came low. “I should probably tell you I wanted to take advantage of you back in the bathhouse. And even worse, I am still thinking about it.”
    She captured his intent gaze, a dizzying current overtaking her. Flashes of their naked bodies pressing and gripping and grinding caused her heart to skid. “I can assure you,” she warned half-seriously, “you are not the only one thinking about it. So don’t consider yourself to be a rebel.”
    His green eyes darkened.