CHAPTER EIGHT
Gabriel was out of the chair and halfway to the door before he caught himself. Because what the hell did he think he was going to do? Chase her down the hallway? Pin her up against the wall and demand an explanation? His cock might have no problems with that, but hell, he did. He didn’t run after women.
“Fuck,” he bit out under his breath, running a hand through his hair, pacing from the chair to the window and back again.
He was so hard he ached. He couldn’t get the feel of her tight, wet pussy around his fingers, the scent of her arousal, and the soft sob she’d made as she’d climaxed out of his head.
She’d been so unbelievably sexy, daring him, challenging him. And just as he’d known it would be, her final capitulation had been so fucking sweet. He hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her as he’d touched her, watching the color rise on her face, the blue of her eyes darken, thick black lashes falling on her cheeks.
He wanted her out of that prissy blouse and tight little skirt. He wanted her naked. White skin on white sheets, her legs spread, her back arching as he tasted her. Sobbing in his ear as he pushed inside her. He wanted her surrendering to him, letting go of that precious self-control of hers, giving in to pleasure and to him.
Jesus Christ, he’d thought she was into it. He’d thought she’d wanted it as badly as he did. And yet … she’d come apart in his arms then ran as if the hounds of hell were on her tail.
What the fuck was that all about?
He looked toward the open doorway. Had he fucked up yet again? And if so, how? All he’d done was given her an orgasm, a pretty intense one from the sounds she’d made.
He cursed, pacing over to the fireplace, looking moodily down into the leaping flames. Letting her go was what he should be doing because he never chased a woman who didn’t want to be chased.
But you still haven’t gotten anything about Tremain from her.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
He had two choices. Either he went after her to find out what was wrong or he stayed here and gave her some space. Normally, his gut instinct would tell him which choice to make but that gut instinct didn’t seem to be working too well around Honor St. James.
You know what you want to do.
Gabriel let out a breath. Yeah, shit, he knew. He needed to go after her. See what the problem was. Because if he was the cause, he had to fix it. He wanted more information about Tremain and if he started asking questions, there was no way she’d answer them now.
Are you sure it’s only about Tremain?
Yeah, well, of course it was. Everything was about Tremain and the justice he was going to mete out in his mother’s name. Sure, that little seduction scene had been pleasurable and he couldn’t deny he wanted more of that for himself, too. But his focus had to be on his ultimate goal.
Stalking over to the door, he went out and down the hallway to the hotel foyer. Outside it was snowing, the air freezing through his T-shirt but he barely felt it, his boots scuffing through the snow as he walked down to the path to the cottage.
Swiping his card, he pulled open the door, barely pausing to scrape the snow off his boots before striding down the hallway and into the lounge area.
Honor wasn’t there.
Cursing, Gabriel turned and went back into the hall, crossing to the bedroom she was using. The door was closed but not locked so he pulled it open and went in.
Honor was standing by the bed, her suitcase open, throwing clothes into it. Her head jerked up as he came in, her eyes huge and dark in her face. Shock crossed her finely carved features before it vanished, leaving behind an expressionless mask.
“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.
“What does it look like?” she replied calmly. “I’m packing my bag.”
Anger sharpened inside him. “You’re not leaving.”
“The hell I’m not.”
“No, you’re not. It’s late and it’s snowing, and the driving conditions are going to be shitty.”
Honor tossed a silky white blouse into her case. “Are you seriously telling me what to do?”
He folded his arms. “Yes.”
“I see. So are you going to lock me in? Because that’s the only way you’re going to stop me from leaving.”
He didn’t understand why he should be so disappointed by the thought, but that didn’t stop him from feeling it. “You’re not leaving,” he said fiercely. “You’re running away.”
She stilled, holding a skirt in one hand. “I’m not running away.”
“I give you an orgasm, then you bolt from the room and start packing? Of course you’re fucking running away.” He held her gaze. “I’d like to know why.”
“That’s none of your business.” She folded the skirt, laying it in her suitcase.
“Bullshit it isn’t. Especially since I was the one giving you the orgasm.”
“Not everything is about you, Mr. Woolf.”
His patience, already at a breaking point, snapped. Shoving himself away from the door, Gabriel stalked into the room. “Oh no, we’re not going to go back to that ‘Mr. Woolf’ shit again.” He strode around the bed to where she stood, her expression set in stone, blue eyes glittering. “You called me by my name, climbed in my lap, let me touch you to orgasm, then you ran away like I’d burned you. I want to know the fuck why.”
She lifted her chin, shoulders squaring. “What does it matter to you? Or is it a case of blue balls and you’re too damn lazy to use your own hand?”
He stared at her, searching her pale face. “Did I hurt you?”
Her jaw tightened. “No.”
“Because I don’t hurt women, Honor. Yeah, I’m a coldhearted bastard but I won’t hurt a woman on purpose or do something she doesn’t want.”
“No, you manipulate them instead.”
“That goes both ways, little girl. You didn’t have to climb into my lap the way you did. No one forced you into it.”
“You forced me to come here with you though.”
“Did I?”
“Of course you did. Your investment offer was based on me giving you a personal tour of the hotel.”
“You didn’t have to come.”
“I did if I wanted you to invest in Tremain.”
“That was your choice.”
She turned away, silky black hair falling forward, veiling her expression. “You’re a bastard, Gabriel Woolf. A certified, grade-A bastard.”
Like he didn’t know that already. But this was the first time that hearing it made him feel … shitty. As if her opinion mattered to him. A complication he didn’t need and couldn’t afford. “I never pretended I was anything different,” he said. “You knew what you were getting yourself into when you came into the library. I told you. And yet you still got in my lap.” He took a step toward her. “If you didn’t like the orgasm I gave you, then just say so.”
“Oh, if it’s your prowess you’re worried about then don’t. The orgasm was earth-shaking.” The edge of sarcasm in her voice was cold and sharp.
“I couldn’t give a fuck about my prowess. You’re scared and you won’t tell me why.”
Honor ignored him, reaching for another blouse that was lying on the bed. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her gently around to face him. There was anger in her eyes, color on her cheeks. “Let me go.”
“I didn’t pick you for a coward, Honor.”
A fierce blue flame leapt in her eyes. She stepped right up close to him, inches away. “You want to know why I ran? Because the first orgasm I ever had that wasn’t via my vibrator had to come from you.”
His breath caught, a bolt of something hot and intense shooting through him in response. A primitive satisfaction he couldn’t deny.
She saw it, her lip curling. “And naturally enough now you think you’re God.”
“No, I think what fucking poor taste in men you must have had up until now.”
Her gaze flickered. “Let go of me.”
He ignored her. Jesus, he didn’t understand it. She was beautiful, intelligent, articulate. Yet she’d never come with a man before. Why not? Had she only chosen losers in bed or were there other reasons? “Why? Why me?”
Her mouth was a hard line. “I have no idea. It should have been with a man I like and respect, not with … with someone I don’t.”
He studied her, looking into her glittering blue eyes. She was a fighter and she’d been battling him since day one, playing his game like a pro. A strong woman who didn’t take any crap. A woman who liked to be in control. “It’s because I won’t do what you say like a good boy, isn’t it? You’re used to being the one in charge all the time, but you’re not with me. And you like it. It turns you on.”
“That’s ridiculous. Of course I don’t like it.”
“I felt you come around my fingers, baby. I heard you sob in my ear. You didn’t just like it, you loved it.”
Her cheeks flushed, her gaze flickering away from his. “Please, I need to go.”
Oh, no, she wasn’t going anywhere. Gabriel tugged on her wrist, pulling her closer. “That scares you, doesn’t it? Not being in control. Not being in charge.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.” He took her other wrist in a gentle grip, then, before she could move, held them both behind her back, forcing her body against his. Her breath hissed in her throat, her blue eyes gone dark. She smelled of flowers, of musk. An arousing, sensual scent that made him ache. “No wonder you’ve never had a decent orgasm. You haven’t met a man strong enough to give you what you want. A chance to let your guard down.”
She didn’t fight him but her body was stiff with tension. “Th-that’s not true.”
“No wonder you prefer your vibrator. You get to control all of the action, how deep, how hard. You never have to give yourself up to anyone. Never have to trust.” It was wrong of him to do this, strip her of her protection. Expose her, make her vulnerable. But he wouldn’t stop. To get the information he wanted, he had to get closer to her. “You like me holding you like this, don’t you?”
“No.” She didn’t struggle, didn’t move. “I hate it.”
“You’re such a liar. You love it because you don’t have any control. Because I’m in charge now, not you.”
She said nothing, turned her head away. The blue silk of her blouse pulled tight across her breasts as she breathed, the warmth of her body seeping through him. Christ, with her resting against him he’d gone from being cold to blazing like a furnace.
“You’re always the one in charge,” he went on softly. “Making the decisions, taking action. You can never let yourself go, not even for an instant. Always cool, always calm. Always strong.”
Her throat moved, her breathing quickening. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“No, except that I think you don’t want to be. You tell yourself you’re fine with the way things are, but secretly, you want just one moment where you don’t have to be strong. Where you don’t have to be cool or calm. Where you can let go.”
Her lashes lay on her cheeks, like splashes of black ink. She was still but he could feel the tremble in her body. “That’s not true.”
“It is true. You told me your fantasy, remember? You want to feel but it scares the shit out of you. And that’s why you’re leaving.”
She was silent but he could see the pulse at the base of her throat racing. Hear the ragged sounds of her breathing.
This is a mistake. You want this too much. Want her too much.
The warning was inconvenient, so he ignored it. There was nothing wrong with wanting her. It was passing lust, that was all. He was still in control and that’s all that mattered.
“You don’t understand,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I can’t afford to let go. I can’t afford to feel.”
“Why the fuck not?”
Finally she looked up at him, her eyes dark. “Because I want to too badly.”
“You’re right. I don’t understand.”
“It’s a weakness. My father ruined himself chasing a good feeling and from what I’ve seen, Alex is already halfway down that path. Addiction can be hereditary, so what chance have I got? Especially when you make me feel far too good, Gabriel.”
There was a painful honesty in her eyes that he wasn’t expecting, a momentary vulnerability that hurt for some reason. “It’s just sex, Honor. It’s not a drug. One night won’t make any difference. And besides…” He didn’t know how or why, but the truth came out of him before he was even aware of it. “You’re not alone. Sometimes just feeling is what I want, too.”
Her eyes widened, searching his face as if looking for something she’d lost. “You do?”
Fuck, why had he said that? Revealing parts of himself was not in any way part of his plan. Which meant he had to end this conversation before he lost it and gave away anything more.
Gabriel bent his head and covered her mouth with his.
She stiffened for an instant, her arms pulling against his wrists. Then she made a helpless sound in the back of her throat and all her tension melted away, her body going soft against him. Her mouth opened, letting him in, and he tasted heat and the smoky sweetness of the scotch. Christ, she was delicious. She went straight to his head.
He kissed her deeper, exploring her mouth as he gripped her wrists harder, bending her body into a perfect arch against him. Her breasts pressed to his chest, her hips to his, the hard ridge of his cock against the soft warmth between her thighs.
She shuddered, kissing him back, just as hot, just as hungry as he was. The desire that had been simmering inside him ignited into life again, a sharp, intense ache.
He lifted his mouth, looked down into her flushed face, her mouth full and red from his kiss. There was something defiant in her eyes. Something that called to the hunter inside him, that twisted the hunger tighter.
“We made a deal, Honor St. James,” he said roughly. “It’s too late to pull out now. You had a fantasy remember? It’s too cold for the bike, but we can make that fantasy come true right here, right now.”
* * *
Honor was so aroused she couldn’t breathe. And it shouldn’t work that way. She shouldn’t be so completely turned on by a man holding her wrists behind her back, the length of his powerful body up against hers.
Not just any man. Gabriel.
Her mouth burned from his kiss. Everywhere burned. Like the mere touch of him scalded her and now she was desperate for relief.
She looked up into his eyes and felt stripped bare. Like he saw everything, knew everything. She didn’t know how he’d managed to guess those things about her, how he knew exactly what scared her, or even why she’d told him about her fears. But no matter how afraid she was, she wanted to believe he was right. That it was only sex. That one night wouldn’t hurt. Because she did want to let go. Wanted, for a moment, not to have to be in control. To not care. To embrace the rush and the sheer intensity of physical pleasure.
But she didn’t know how. The thought of letting go terrified her. Because what if it was good? What if she wanted it again? And again, and again, and again? What if she couldn’t get enough of him? Of this?
Yet that fantasy of him inside her, holding her hands so she couldn’t fight or move thrilled her down to her bones.
She would have no choice but to accept whatever he wanted to give her. No option but to let go.
He shifted his hips against hers, the hard ridge of his cock pressing against her, making her want to rock against it, get the friction she craved. “Tell me more of your fantasy. About me fucking you with your hands behind your back.”
She swallowed, afraid to give in. “N-no.”
“Do it.”
“No.” She arched against him, the hard press of his zipper between her legs sending small, sharp electric shocks through her.
He bent his head, his mouth brushing her jawline, then lower, against the side of her neck. Then he bit her.
She gasped, the sensation streaking down her spine, pleasure mixed with a dart of pain that had her trembling. “Oh … God…”
“The words, baby,” he said softly, his breath against her skin. “Or you don’t get to have it.”
He held her so tightly and there was no escape. No choice now but to give in.
She closed her eyes. “P-please. I want … you to hold my hands behind my back and … f-fuck me.”
His grip on her shifted, her wrists crossed and held in the small of her back by one strong hand. Then she felt his free hand slide under her skirt, his fingers cupping the back of her thigh, sliding upward.
She trembled, shutting her eyes tighter, the breath catching in her throat. His hand slid up to the curve of her butt and stopped, long fingers moving between her thighs.
Oh … Holy God …
He gently brushed over the lacy fabric of her panties. “You’re wet. You want this so badly, don’t you?”
Honor shuddered in his hold, unable to stop the soft gasp that escaped her.
Another tantalizing brush of his fingertips. “Tell me. Or it doesn’t happen.”
“Y-yes … please…”
“Please who?”
“G-Gabriel. Please, Gabriel.”
“Good girl. Now stand just like that. Don’t move.”
She kept her eyes closed, standing there motionless as he released her, unable to stop shaking, her hands behind her back.
You should have left while you’d had the chance.
Maybe she should have. But she hadn’t. And now it was too late. She couldn’t have walked away from this if she’d tried.
His hands slid up her thighs, underneath her skirt. Fingers hooking into the waistband of her panties, jerking hard, the sound of fabric tearing. She inhaled sharply, some deep part of her, the wild part, thrilled by the roughness of the motion, the pull and release as the lace fell away from her.
Then his hands on her thighs again, urging her forward. She didn’t want to look, happy with the darkness. It was easier to concentrate on sensation. She went where those hands put her but when they pushed her skirt up, she trembled. Bare from the waist down and now, he could see her.
She screwed her eyes shut even tighter, trying to calm her breathing and failing.
“Pretty,” he murmured, his voice soft and dark, fingers stroking through the curls between her thighs. “You look as good as you feel.”
Honor shivered. The blackness behind her eyes was threaded through with spikes of white light, spiraling behind her lids as he touched her. Small bolts of lightning.
“Come here.” He pulled her forward and she realized he was sitting on the edge of the bed, making her straddle him. Once she was sitting, facing him, he gripped her wrists and held them behind her back again.
She swallowed, listening. Was he breathing as fast as she was? Was he shaking like she was?
Does that matter to you?
Yes, it did. The grip on her wrists released and she opened her eyes, looked down.
Gabriel was in the process of leaning back, undoing his jeans, his gaze on her. And the look in his eyes …
The air between them caught fire. Igniting in a sheet of flame, the heat burning the air from her lungs.
He said nothing as he pulled his jeans open, as he reached for the foil packet beside him on the bed. He freed his cock, ripping the packet open and sheathing himself. His movements were slow, controlled, his gaze never leaving hers.
She couldn’t temper her breathing, the heat of his body like a furnace beneath her open, exposed flesh. The muscles of her thighs locked. This was too much.
Instinct had her rising as he straightened, his hand reaching behind her to grip her crossed wrists in a tight hold, preventing her from getting away. Those dark eyes were inches from her own, his mouth within kissing distance. “Don’t be scared,” he whispered roughly. “I won’t hurt you.”
But it wasn’t hurt she was afraid of. It was the fierce, uncontrollable pleasure she knew he’d give her that she wasn’t sure she could handle. Not again.
He seemed to understand though. “It’ll be okay. I’ve got you.”
And he kept his gaze on hers as she felt one hand on her hip, guiding, positioning her.
Then his fingers spread her open and he was pushing her down onto him. Sensitive flesh stretched and she cried out, trembling all over, pleasure catching in her throat.
Too much. Too much.
Yet his hand around her wrists was a shackle and she couldn’t escape from the sensation. Couldn’t run. Could only sit there and take it as he moved deeper inside her, fire in the shadowy gaze that pinned her to the spot, which made it so she couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
“Gabriel…” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “God…”
“Keep still.” The words were a ragged threat that didn’t even sound like him. There was a fierce expression on his face, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His fingers around her wrists were like iron and he was breathing fast, his powerful chest heaving.
She wasn’t the only one feeling the intensity of this. He did, too.
For some reason that made it better. Made it easier to cope with.
Honor sucked in a breath, the fear beginning to fade. She wanted to move, anything to ease the ache. “Please … let me…”
Gabriel bit off a low curse, the hand on her hip gripping her tight. Then at last he let her move, his hand guiding her, his hips thrusting up as she rose and fell on him. The slow glide of him inside her was so intense she had to close her eyes again, biting her lip to stop the moan that crowded her throat.
Her thighs shook. Her whole body trembled. She couldn’t take this. She was going to drown, lose herself in the sharp, vicious pleasure that flooded every part of her. She strained against his hands, arching her body in a reflexive need to get away, reduce the intensity somehow. Escape. Because she just couldn’t handle it.
But Gabriel stilled all of a sudden, deep inside her. Then her wrists were free. She blinked, opening her eyes in time to see him grip the sides of her blouse and pull them apart with a sharp jerk. Honor gasped as fabric ripped, buttons flying. He pushed the ruined material off her shoulders, pulling it down her arms.
“W-what are you doing?” she asked shakily.
He didn’t answer but then he didn’t have to. As he tied the blouse around her wrists, binding them behind her back, she couldn’t stop the groan that broke from her. Although he hadn’t tied it too tight, it was firm enough she couldn’t get free.
He leaned back a little, his intense black gaze drinking her in. Then he gripped her bra and tore that in half, too.
This time she didn’t make a sound, shivering as the cool air whispered over her hot skin, raising goose bumps.
Gabriel leaned back on the bed, looking at her. “Fuck … yes…” There was so much hunger in his expression, a raw possessiveness that should have made her angry. Because she wasn’t anyone’s to own.
Until now. He wasn’t looking at her and thinking money, that was for damn sure. He was looking at her like he wanted to devour her. She’d never imagined how erotic that would be. Never even thought she’d like it. With her hands tied behind her back, naked to his gaze, there was no way she could control this situation. No way to stop him from taking what he wanted. No way to take charge.
There was freedom in that she’d only dreamed of.
The hand on her hip keeping her steady slid higher, cupping one breast. The heat of his palm scalded her and she moaned as he circled her aching nipple with his thumb, brushing back and forth. At the same time he began to move again, the slow thrust of his hips making her thoughts break apart and scatter under the sheer weight of the pleasure.
“I’m going to make you scream, baby,” he said in a low, rough voice. “I’m going to make you scream yourself hoarse.” Then he pinched her nipple, hard enough for the pleasure to have a rough edge of pain.
God, why did she like that? She couldn’t keep the cry inside her. A wordless sound of desperation.
He began to move faster and the world fell away, narrowed, becoming only the push of his cock inside her, the heat of his body beneath her, the clever fingers on her breast, and the slow, relentless build of an ecstasy that wouldn’t be denied.
Honor began to shake, caught on the cusp of something immense. Something vast. Pleasure a living flame inside her clawing to get out. She shut her eyes, panting, sobs crowding in her throat. This couldn’t be happening, not so soon. Not again.
“I can’t…” she said raggedly, hardly even aware she was speaking. “I can’t…”
“Don’t fight it,” he said, dark and soft. “Let go.” And he shifted, an arm sliding around her waist, the heat of his body pressing hard against her front. Then his hand slid between them, down between her thighs to where they were joined. And he brushed one finger over her clit, so lightly. But it was enough.
Honor stopped fighting. Let go as lightning bolted up her spine and she screamed as a column of fire exploded in her head. Behind her eyes. Flooding her body with pleasure so intense she didn’t think she’d survive it.
Gabriel’s arms tightened around her and she pressed her forehead into his shoulder, sobbing as sensation tore her apart.
Some time passed and the intensity began to fade.
Then he said, “My turn.”
His arms tightened further, turning her on her back onto the white sheets of the bed, still inside her. Then he slid a hand behind her knee, lifting her leg up high, over one powerful shoulder, tilting her hips so he could get even deeper.
She panted, moving restlessly, the heavy laxness of the first orgasm beginning to fade, tension gathering in the pit of her stomach. Oh, Jesus, please don’t say he was going to break her. Not again.
“Say my name,” he ordered, one arm wrapped around her leg. “Say it.”
“G-Gabriel…”
He drew his hips back. “Again.”
“Gabriel…” The name ended on a cry as he thrust back in, hard. “Oh … please … I can’t … not again…”
“You can. You will.” He began to move, a relentless, driving rhythm, the tension in her stomach becoming an ache, a need, pulling tighter, another climax beginning to dig sharp claws in her.
Honor gasped, twisting beneath him, but there was no escaping it. No escaping him. The orgasm crashed over her like a building falling, leaving her gasping and shivering as he drove into her, his arm wrapped around her thigh, his hand on her hip, holding her still.
Then abruptly he growled deep in his throat, his hips giving one last, convulsive thrust, and his big body shuddered, the growl becoming a rough, hoarse cry.
She couldn’t move, didn’t even have the energy to speak. She could only lie there, panting, with her eyes shut, staring at the bright spots behind her lids, feeling him shake as the release caught him as well.
God in heaven. He’d destroyed her. Utterly wrecked her and left her in pieces. How the hell could she ever recover from this? Would she even want to?
She felt him move, withdrawing from her. Then he reached beneath her, releasing the fabric tying her wrists. Her hands tingled as he drew them from behind her back, gently chafing her wrists.
She opened her eyes, found her vision blurry with tears.
“Wait there,” Gabriel murmured. “I won’t be long.” He left the bed, disappearing into the bathroom en suite.
Honor drew the sheet over herself, shaking and unable to stop.
Sex wasn’t supposed to be this way. At least it had never been that way for her. No, she’d never come with any of her lovers but it had been nice. Pleasant. Vaguely pleasurable but ultimately forgettable. Not … intense. Passionate. Soul-destroying. Addicting …
She turned her hot face into the cool pillow. No … she had to pull herself together. No falling apart. So she’d let go. Given up control. And yes, it had been incredible. But all that feeling didn’t make it mean anything. She wouldn’t let it.
It was only sex. The intensity was only because he’d given her three orgasms in a row and she wasn’t used to it. Not because it felt like he’d ripped away her control, leaving her aching, raw, and vulnerable. And wanting more …
The bed dipped, Gabriel returning, and she wanted to get away from him all of a sudden. Be alone to recover, build herself back up again. But before she could move, his arms came around her, drawing her in close, and as the heat of his body surrounded her, she realized he must have taken his clothes off—all she felt was hot, bare skin against hers.
“Oh, no,” she said, half-desperately, “I can’t—”
“Relax, sweetheart.” His deep voice was in her ear, full of rough heat. “I think you’ve had enough for tonight.” He ran a hand down her side in a gentle motion, then back up again. A light, undemanding, soothing touch. And despite herself she felt the tension in her begin to lessen.
Get up. Go. Get away while you can.
The warning rang loud in her head but she felt strangely reluctant to move. Warmth had begun to uncurl through her body, the raw feeling fading. Gabriel’s hand stroked up and down her side, his body like a fire at her back.
She’d never much liked sleeping with another person. Having the bed all to yourself was infinitely preferable to sharing space with someone else. God, sometimes even being held left her feeling constrained and suffocated. Stiff and tense.
But she realized she didn’t feel any of those things now. She felt only … warm. Loose. A deep sense of relaxation seeping through her.
“Gabriel,” she said thickly. “I think we need to—”
“Not now,” he interrupted. “I think now we need to sleep.”
Honor sighed. She should argue, she really should. Or at least insist he get up and go to his own room. Except she didn’t want to. She didn’t even want to move.
So all she said was, “Okay.”
And five minutes later, she was asleep.