Chapter Nine
Once home, Elle got her new guitar out. She wanted to ‘tinker’ for a while, so Conrad offered to cook dinner. It was his turn anyway.
He was keeping it simple, steak and chips, but the chips were hand cut and shallow fried, and he made a Béarnaise sauce to go with the steaks. Since she seemed to think vegetables were mandatory, he also steamed some broccoli.
As he worked away in the kitchen, he could hear her coming up with a new tune, trying new things until she found something that she liked. Then she’d move onto the next part, the tune growing organically. Sometimes she hummed along; she evidently didn’t have lyrics for this song yet, although she seemed to be working out what shape they would take.
She came through to the kitchen when he called, and although it seemed a waste not to use the posh dining table, they both seemed to prefer the informal breakfast bar.
He put her plate in front of her,
“This looks amazing,” she said as she picked her cutlery up.
“Thank you.”
She cut a piece of steak, dipped it in the sauce, and groaned in pleasure as she tasted it.
“You’re a really good cook.” She sounded surprised.
“It’s just steak and chips.” He shrugged modestly.
“True, but the sauce tells me you’re quite accomplished. Not everyone has the skill to make such a delicate sauce, and I include myself.”
“I know how to do a handful of things fairly well,” he admitted with a blush.
“Ah, well, I know how to cook a lot of things with minimum skill.” She grinned. “So between the two of us we might just make a chef!”
He laughed. “If the music doesn’t work out, give me a call—maybe we can start a restaurant!”
“Half the dishes cooked to perfection, the other half just thrown together and dumped on the plate.” She smiled wryly.
“We’ll call it Half and Half!” he suggested playfully.
She smiled.
“So how do you think today went?” he asked.
Her grin faded quickly. “Marcus is going to be so mad when he finds out I’m going behind his back.”
“I know, but this is your career, Elle, not his. And like Paul said, the record company will be given both versions of the video, his and yours. If Marcus is right, his will win.”
She nodded sadly. “I just hate lying.”
“You’re not lying! But you can’t let Marcus bully you, Elle. I know you feel guilty that he got hurt, but that honestly wasn’t your fault.”
“I know.” She sighed. “It still feels like my fault, though.”
“You mustn’t let him railroad you just because you feel bad that he got hurt. He knew what he was getting into when he offered to go check. No one forced him.”
She nodded, and Conrad decided to drop the subject, not wanting to bring her down.
Silence reigned for a few moments until he decided to ask what he’d wanted to all day.
“So, if you don’t mind my asking,” he said as they ate, “who is ‘Everywhere’ about?”
“My mum,” she replied with a sad smile. “She died when I was fourteen, of pancreatic cancer.”
“You were close?”
“Very.” She nodded. “My dad took off when I was a baby, so it was just us. We moved back in with Gran. The three of us against the world, but I was closer to Mum, obviously.”
“And you still feel her around?” he asked.
She blushed and looked down, embarrassed.
“You’ll think I’m silly.”
“Never,” he answered immediately and with sincerity, his hand squeezing hers.
She glanced at him from behind her lashes, and his heart skipped a beat at how beautiful she looked. Beautiful and sad.
“It took her a few months to pass, so we knew it was coming. She always said that she’d be around after that, and that if ever I saw a white feather, I should take it as a sign she was watching.”
He smiled at the story.
“I used to see those feathers everywhere,” she admitted quietly. “My first birthday present after she died was sitting on one. One appeared on our Christmas tree every single year. I thought maybe they came from the angel on top, its wings, you know? But I checked thoroughly every year, and there were never any loose feathers when I put the angel on the tree. My exam results envelope had a small downy one caught under the flap, and there was a white quill lying on my pillow the night before I left for university. I’d literally find a couple a week just in random places. I stopped seeing as many once I went away to university, and since my gran died, hardly any.” She shrugged.
“You think she . . . ?”
“Yeah.” She nodded. “And I love her for making me feel like Mum was still with me, but I miss the feeling of her watching over me. Real or not, every time I come across a feather, I feel her presence again. I just don’t get to feel it as often anymore.”
“Maybe because you’re growing up and don’t need her as much?” Conrad wasn’t given to flights of fancy, but spoiling her dream felt wrong.
“Maybe.” She smiled softly at him, her eyes misty. “Sometimes I’m certain it was Gran leaving feathers everywhere; other times I feel like Mum’s standing right beside me, whether I can see her or not. I definitely prefer the latter.”
He couldn’t blame her for that.
“You don’t mention the feathers in the song, though,” he noted, a questioning tilt to his eyebrow.
“I didn’t want it to be just about me and Mum. I wanted it to be something everyone could relate to. We’ve all lost someone, and we all sometimes believe they’re still watching over us, or we want to, and that was what I tried to capture, that feeling. Besides, people are never really gone as long as we remember them.”
“Well, it’s beautiful. You should be very proud.”
She blushed and looked down, but the pleased smile on her face when she glanced up at him made his groin tighten.
They cleared up in companionable silence and headed to the living room.
“Writing a new song?” he asked, gesturing to the guitar that was propped up against an armchair.
“Maybe,” she said.
“How do you remember the tune? Do you write music?”
“I have an app on my phone.” She smiled, reaching for the phone as she sat down. “It allows me to record snippets or whole songs, so if I’m lying in bed and a great hook comes to me, or the perfect lyric, I can record it. Then get a good night’s sleep knowing I won’t have forgotten it in the morning.”
She played one of the snippets she’d recorded and turned the phone to face him.
Conrad suddenly felt a cold chill run down his spine.
“Do you mind if I look at your phone for a second?”
“Sure.” She looked puzzled but handed the phone over.
Conrad navigated to the apps list and looked through it, his suspicions confirmed when he spotted the Fone Finder app.
He pressed the home button and handed it back, so she couldn’t see what he’d been doing.
“Everything okay?” she asked, which was perceptive of her considering that his poker face was usually top notch.
“Fine.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “You can keep playing if you want. I have a few calls I have to make, and I need to check our emails.”
“Okay.” She clearly knew something was off with him, but she didn’t press, which he appreciated.
He left her and headed into his bedroom where he picked up the landline. He called David at home.
“Hello?”
“David, hey,” he said when his old friend answered. “I have a quick question.”
“Shoot.”
“Had Marcus ever been in your home before last night?” If he had, he would know the layout to plan an attack like last night.
“Uh, yeah. Twice, I think. Why?”
Conrad ignored the question. “Is this the first time you’ve worked with him?”
“Yeah, we’ve got a few artists signed to Sonic, but this is our first time working with anyone from jazz and blues.”
Conrad absently tapped his fingers on the desk, thinking.
“And have you ever seen Marcus be inappropriate with Elle?”
“Well, nothing awful. He used to ask her out a lot, but Elle always shut him down.”
“Elle shut him down? She told me she thought he was gay.”
“Maybe that’s why she shut him down. Or maybe she just didn’t realize his intent,” he suggested. “I never heard him ask her on a date as such, just for a coffee, or a business dinner. The thing is, even though Marcus looks young, he is very good at his job, which makes him supremely confident,” David said carefully.
“You mean arrogant?” Conrad asserted.
“I was putting it nicely,” David agreed. “In his personal life however, he . . .” He broke off, trying to put it into words. “I’ve been to a few industry events with him and he’s . . . I get the impression he’s kind of inept when it comes to personal relationships.”
“Do you know if he has any friends or girlfriends?”
“Never heard him mention either.”
“How does he get on with his colleagues?” Conrad asked.
“You’ve seen him yourself,” David replied. “He’s professional, but he doesn’t always pick up on the social cues other people do, and he does have a tendency to be petty at times.”
David wasn’t asking why Conrad wanted to know this. He had obviously grasped the implications of the questions.
“Do you think Marcus could be behind this?” Conrad asked bluntly.
David let out a thoughtful huff before admitting, “I don’t know.”
The fact that it wasn’t an outright denial was damning.
“If he is, he’s obviously working with someone else.”
“Stalkers don’t usually team up.” Conrad played devil’s advocate.
“There’s a first time for everything.”
“It would be clever too, because it gives Marcus an alibi. His getting hurt turns him into a hero, but I just . . .”
“What?” David asked.
“I don’t know, I guess I just can’t figure out why.”
“How sure are you that it’s him?”
“Well, ninety percent sure. I found a tracking app on Elle’s phone, and I remember he took her bag from her at the radio interview. Then he disappeared for a few minutes.”
“Could you see when the app was installed?”
“No, but I have contacts who are good with tech. They’ll be able to find the date. They might even be able to trace the account. An app isn’t enough to prove it, though. We need to find who he’s working with.”
“Whatever you need from me, just ask.”
“Thanks.”
“So what about this doesn’t add up for you?”
“The violence,” Conrad admitted. “He’s clearly enamored with Elle, so I would expect him to be an intimacy seeker or incompetent suitor, but the fear and violence is more in keeping with the rejected or resentful stalker.”
“Are you sure he isn’t one of those?” David questioned.
“It’s possible, but if he’s out for revenge, why not just pull her contract? That’s surely the most devastating blow he could give her.”
“Maybe he’s worried his career will be harmed if he does?”
“Maybe, but I’m sure he’s clever enough to find a plausible excuse, like framing her for plagiarism or something. No, there’s something else going on here. I just don’t know what.” Conrad sounded frustrated.
“I know it sounds unlikely,” David began slightly hesitantly, “but Marcus doesn’t really strike me as the violent type either. Could she have two stalkers? One who hates her and wants to hurt her, and Marcus, who’s . . . what did you call it? Incompetent?”
“Incompetent suitor.”
“What if he’s an incompetent suitor who’s just a little inappropriate and creepy?”
Conrad sighed. Marcus definitely sounded more like the incompetent suitor or an intimacy seeker. Could she be unlucky enough to have two stalkers?
“I’ll look into it,” Conrad assured him. After all, his suspicions meant nothing without proof. “Don’t say anything to Elle yet,” he requested.
“Is she not doing well?”
“I just don’t want to say anything without proof. She already feels guilty that he got hurt. Accusing him prematurely might push her into defending him and refusing to believe us.”
“Okay. Keep me informed.”
“Will do. How is your family doing?”
David sighed. “Simon had a nightmare last night, and Sammy’s very subdued, but we’re carrying on as usual in the hopes that normality will make them feel safe again.”
“And Stacey?”
“Oh, she’s furious!” he said with feeling. “If Marcus is behind this, keep her away from him or we might have a bloodbath on our hands!” David chuckled.
“I’ll hold him down for her!” Conrad growled.
After they hung up, he called Browning’s to see how their background check on Marcus was coming, and they promised to email him what they had so far. He had to email Jed because he didn’t have a phone number for the hacker, and there was only one place with an Ethernet cable—a small desk table in the living room. He was headed there when he heard Elle singing. He paused in the hallway to listen. Evidently, she had added some lyrics to the tune she was writing.
“He stands there strong, completely undaunted. Then I catch that look in his eyes—I can see that he’s haunted.”
Was she writing about him?
He stayed still, and after a short break, she continued.
“He’s got his secrets, and I don’t like to pry. I just wish he could see that he doesn’t need to hide.”
He quite liked the idea that she was writing about him. He hadn’t realized he was special enough to inspire her, but he had no idea she was so perceptive. Thank God she didn’t know what he was hiding.
The very idea that she might somehow be able to see him for the coward he was unnerved him and made him irritable.
“The fear is real, the stakes are high, but I still feel safe when—” She paused then began again. “The fear is real, the stakes are high, and I only feel safe when he’s nearby. He rides to my rescue, he never shows fear, but can I trust him to love me, or will he say goodbye? . . . But can I trust him to love me, or will it all end in tears?”
He moved into the doorway and leaned against its frame, his arms crossed almost defensively. When she paused next, he spoke up, taking a perverse thrill when she jumped slightly.
“You could ask me, you know.”
She turned to him, her face pale from fright but her expression unrepentant.
“I have asked,” she replied, her hand hovering over her heart as if to calm it. “You aren’t terribly receptive to questions about your past.”
He felt a tiny bit guilty for intending to scare her, but he still viewed her interest as invasive.
“And you’re okay with that?”
She flashed him an incredulous smile. “I trust you implicitly. Whatever is in your past is your business.”
“You don’t care?”
“Of course I care. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m crazy attracted to you, and I’d love to know everything about you.” She blushed as she said that but managed to only glance away briefly. “But I’m not going to badger you to talk about things you don’t want to. If you want to tell me, you will.” She shrugged. “And in the meantime, I know everything I need to.”
He wondered if she’d still feel the same if he told her the truth.
“I can’t say I won’t write about you, but I’ll never release anything about you if you don’t want me to.” She flashed him an eager smile, hopeful that he would accept that compromise.
In truth, he didn’t mind her writing about him. What had angered him was in her lyrics—that his past didn’t matter to her. As much as he wished that were true, he knew it couldn’t be.
He took a deep breath and tried to relax. It wasn’t her fault he was a coward, and he shouldn’t be punishing her because she wouldn’t be able to handle the truth. Even he couldn’t handle the truth, which was why he often hid in a bottle when he didn’t have work to distract him.
“Friends again?” She still had that keen smile, although it was starting to fray at his hesitation.
“Sure.” He returned her smile with a warm one of his own. “You carry on. I have a few emails to send.”
She picked up her guitar again, but she played a different song that he vaguely recognized. He enjoyed her playing; it was relaxing.
He looked over the interim background report on Marcus, which included his university records from an American college, but nothing earlier, and there was nothing incriminating yet. Unfortunately, he’d gone to a fancy private school that couldn’t be bribed to release any information, which meant . . . well, Browning’s didn’t go into specifics, but they would find a way, obviously, be it breaking in, or bribing/strong-arming a staff member in order to get the information.
This investigation was going to end up costing a fortune. Luckily, he could reclaim it from the record company, but he winced just thinking about how much it might be.
He then emailed Jed and his hacking group Marcus’s name, address, and mobile number—all taken from Elle’s phone. He didn’t have his email, but he was hopeful that Jed could find some records to hack, or something.
He also asked about finding out when an app was installed and if they needed him to post the phone to them. Conrad knew how to operate a phone and a computer, but much more than that and he was soon lost.
He finally logged onto Elle’s email account and found a delightful email that ranted and raved about how her friend might have saved her this time, but the stalker was going to do more than simply assault the individual in a garage. He was going to track “her protector” down and kill him, slowly. There was no sick story tagged onto the end, though.
Elle had begun playing “Hotel California,” a favorite of his, and he smiled as her soulful voice sang the familiar lyrics.
Returning his attention to the email, he considered David’s idea that there might be two stalkers, in which case Marcus could be in danger. Not that the stalker knew who he’d attacked. The police hadn’t released the details of the attack at David’s house.
Besides, the most likely scenario was that Marcus injured himself as a ploy to make Elle feel guilty, and there was never someone else in the garage with him.
He forwarded the email to himself, then permanently deleted it from Elle’s computer.
As he stood up, Elle was about to launch into the chorus and he sang along with her, which earned him a smile that made his heart stutter for a moment.
They finished the song together—well, Conrad only knew most of it, but he pretty much kept up—and grinned as it ended.
“You’ve got a few emails from friends. They’re a bit worried that they haven’t heard from you and that you haven’t been posting on social media.”
She put her guitar down and went to her computer. “With everything going on, I didn’t want to worry them,” she admitted. “I’ll let them know I’m okay. Thanks.”
She emailed her friends back with reassurances, then the two settled down on the sofa with a couple of Tom Cruise action movies. In the break, Conrad got new drinks and switched DVDs while Elle went to change into her nightclothes.
He glanced up at the small noise of her footfalls, and his breath stopped. Instead of her usual Hello Kitty or cute panda pajamas, Elle looked heart stopping in a white silk slip of a nightgown that swirled around her thighs. Her hair was down over her shoulders and glinting in the overhead lighting. She paused when he looked up, flushing. Then she walked over to where he sat on the sofa and looked down at him.
After a moment of silence, Conrad lifted his hand to her. He shouldn’t be doing this.
Elle took his hand, swallowing hard, and moved to straddle him. She settled back on his thighs and placed a hand on his chest. She struggled for a moment to bring her eyes to his, biting her lip in trepidation
All the air left his lungs when his steel gray eyes met her green ones. He shifted under her, attempting to disguise his burgeoning hard-on. Christ, why did she have to be so beautiful?
Elle cleared her throat.
“Um, I thought of a way I can feel safe, and we can both be comfortable,” she said with a slight hesitation in her voice.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” She was looking down, but she managed to force her gaze up to meet his. “I was wondering how you’d feel about sleeping in my bed . . . with me?”
“Elle . . .” Conrad paused, clearing his throat. His hands settled gingerly on her thighs. “You are beautiful, and I would absolutely love to sleep with you. But it wouldn’t be wise. You’re my client. You need to be able to depend on me to keep you safe, not . . . take advantage of you.”
She looked away, gnawing on her lip.
“Rob . . .” She clenched his shirt and drew a deep breath. “I’m not asking for a lifelong commitment. Just—”
He interrupted her. “But maybe I am. I don’t know yet . . .” His hands slid up to her waist, and he leaned forward to place a tender kiss on her forehead. The temptation to throw caution to the wind was strong, but he had to do the right thing. “Darling, I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding. If we do this, I need to know that it’s not just a one-off thing. I don’t want you feeling as if you have to do this in order to ensure that I’ll do my job. And I don’t want to feel like you’re only doing this out of some momentary vulnerability. You’re not just some hookup. I need to know that it isn’t based on something fleeting. Please . . . can we wait until the bastard is caught? Then we’ll both know that this thing is real not just situational.” His eyes pleaded with her.
Elle stared at him, judging his sincerity. Her eyes filled with tears.
“Okay,” she choked out. “Maybe you’re right.” She buried her burning face into his chest and felt his arms come around her in a fierce hug. “It’s almost impossible to think about the future right now.”
“I know. And thank you.”
“But we don’t have to be completely platonic, right? We can do other stuff, can’t we?”
“I’m not sure that’s wi—”
Suddenly her lips were pressed against his. Once he got over the shock and decided to close his eyes and enjoy it, she was pulling away, searching his face for signs of his reaction.
He could say no. He could keep things professional. He could deny her, but Lord help him, she was temptation personified!
“Elle.” Conrad actually looked pained. “I’m not sure this is such a good idea. I don’t want to get distracted and put you in danger.”
“You won’t,” she assured him.
“I might.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “So what, you might try to kiss me in public and leave me open to attacks?”
“Exactly.”
“Do you want to kiss me now?”
“I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since you walked out in those silly panda pj’s a few days ago.”
“But you haven’t.”
“Because I’m a professional.”
“I know.” She nodded. “And I don’t think a few kisses are going to change that. In fact, knowing that you can kiss me when we get home might make you less likely to get distracted.”
She certainly did present a persuasive argument, and he couldn’t poke any holes in it either. He was a professional, and a little affection wasn’t going to turn him into a blithering idiot. He felt himself grin as he realized he was going to say yes.
The idea of being in a more wholesome relationship appealed to him too, almost as if he could turn back time to his first girlfriends in high school, before his life became the complicated moral quagmire it was today.
She was leaning in for another kiss, her eyes studying his face for signs of rejection, taking her time, giving him ample opportunity to stop her. Instead he closed the remaining distance and claimed his first kiss from her. Elle straddling his lap with that short little nightie riding up her thighs was just too much temptation for one man to handle, so he reached down and lifted her easily, turning her to sit across his lap.
There, that was better.
He kissed her again. One hand supported her back while the hand on her waist began to explore, roaming over her hip, then over the top of her ass, where he discovered that she wasn’t sitting on the nightgown. Almost of its own volition, his hand snaked underneath the slinky fabric, and he groaned into their kiss as he touched her feverish skin.
He caressed her back, then over her stomach, then along her outer thigh. To Elle it felt like he was doing his best to ignore any sexual areas, while in reality, Conrad simply wanted to explore all of her.
Finally, he cupped her small, pert breast, making her sigh with need as he tweaked her nipple.
Elle was trying to unbutton his shirt, but she wasn’t in a great position to do so. Each time she tried to pull away, the hand on her back grabbed her waist and held her in place. He didn’t care how much she wanted to touch him, she felt so good pressed against him that he wasn’t willing to let her go. Not yet.
She finally made enough progress with his buttons to slip her hand inside, where she ran her short nails through the smattering of hair she found.
The sheer eagerness of the move almost made Conrad come instantly, just from the promise of how passionate she was going to be in bed. Somehow he held off.
Yes, he was teasing her by drawing things out, but he was teasing himself too, knowing how much better things would be with the added anticipation.
As Elle tweaked his nipple, she broke the kiss and headed for his neck, where she licked and nibbled him to distraction.
Honestly, a SWAT team could have kicked the door in, and he wouldn’t even have noticed. All he knew was her. The feel of her ass pressed into his thighs. The soft firmness of her breasts. The hard pebble that was her nipple. How her hip and waist somehow conformed to him, like the two of them were puzzle pieces made to fit together.
His world was reduced to need, want, and desire.
He hadn’t intended to go below her waist, but he just couldn’t help himself, and his hand slid to her hip, where he found a flimsy strap. She spread her thighs for him, and he didn’t hesitate to accept her invitation.
The gusset of her panties was little more than a wisp of lace.
“Do you like these panties?” he asked.
Elle didn’t stop her ministrations on his neck but managed to say, “Nuh-uh,” while she worked.
Taking the strip in both hands, Conrad snapped it in two.
Elle shivered as her underwear succumbed to his strength, snapping like a twig.
His long, elegant fingers sought out her folds and her lips, already swollen with desire, parted with ease.
“You’re so wet,” he whispered. “You like this, don’t you?”
“Yes!” She sat up, her eyes closed as she lost herself in sensation.
Moving her gusset out of the way, he ran his finger along the length of her slit, just inside the fold, gently teasing her. Up and down, going a little deeper each time.
His free hand supported her back, holding her upright so he could watch her face as expressions of desire flitted across her features.
His index finger finally touched her swollen clit, and he saw the relief on her face as he finally began giving her what she so desperately wanted. What he had made sure she wanted.
He stroked the pearl a little harder, then softer but faster, watching with acute attention as her breath began to hitch. He didn’t give her the chance to catch her breath until she was nearing her climax, when he stopped and began to lightly trace the length of her labia once more.
Elle whimpered in frustration while her brow furrowed.
She opened her eyes and looked at him, her expression asking if he was serious about stopping. His smug expression assured her that he was only toying with her.
“Close your eyes and enjoy,” he urged her, which she did, putting herself wholly in his capable hands.
After letting her cool down, he built her to another peak, more slowly this time, and by the time she was ready to come, she was covered in a sheen of perspiration.
Still he denied her, leaving her fit to burst from desire.
She kept her eyes closed as she spoke, a smile playing on her lips.
“If you don’t let me come soon, I might spontaneously combust.”
“First time someone’s used that excuse.” He chuckled softly.
He built her to a third peak but more quickly this time, eager to see how she looked in the throes of orgasm.
When her climax finally came, it didn’t gently wash over her, like usual. This time he built her to a crescendo, and her orgasm literally crashed through her, making her fist her hands and curl her toes. Conrad didn’t stop, though. He continued to stroke her clit softly and watched as she twitched slightly with each aftershock.
Finally getting too tender, she closed her legs and leaned in to him, her head resting on his shoulder and a blissful smile on her lips.
Conrad righted the skirt of her nightgown, such as it was, and rubbed his hands all over her body, along her legs, her back, her arms, gently stroking her while she recovered.
“Why the change in nightwear?” he asked curiously once she’d had a few minutes to recover. He liked the feeling of her satin, but he rather missed the panda and kitty pajamas
“I figured this was a little more sophisticated than my others,” she admitted. “I only brought the nightie because I knew I’d be staying in a posh hotel.”
“So you brought a nightdress to change into in case you ordered room service?” he asked, his amusement evident.
“They were a gift, and don’t laugh at me!” she chastised while laughing at his words herself.
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” he said, but his smile said he wasn’t even a little sorry.
“So I think that makes it your turn.” She moved to sit up, but he wrapped his arms around her torso and held her tightly.
“That’s not fair,” she pouted.
“Soon,” he assured her. “Let’s just take things slowly. Please.”
Elle nodded.
“So how do you feel about sharing my bed tonight? Not for sex,” she hurried on. “You have my word I’ll restrain myself and not jump your bones. Just so we both get a good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed.”
The thought of sleeping with her wrapped in his arms wasn’t awful. In fact, he rather liked the idea.
“Okay, but you keep your grabby hands to yourself, do you understand?” he teased.
His breath caught in his throat as she threw her head back and laughed. He’d never seen anything quite so sexy before.
“Scouts honor,” she promised and held three fingers up, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
They turned the next movie on, but she stayed on his lap. They snuggled and kissed a little, but they were careful not to go too far.
Conrad sighed with contentment, unable to remember the last time he’d felt this comfortable with a woman. It had to be years.
He pushed that thought aside, though, preferring to enjoy the moment.