Page 90 of Claim

And my chest gave way completely.

I crossed the space between us and went into him, sliding my hands into his hair as I kissed him, and his arm came around my waist, holding me to him.

“If you’re asking me to wait for you,” I breathed against his lips, “then I’ve been waiting for you this entire time. That’s not about to change.”

He stilled. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Jesus, did you think…? I’ve not been with anyone else since all this started. Since…the fucking alley.”

“Fuck.” Razor closed his eyes, held me close to him. Then he opened his eyes to hold my gaze. “Me either.”

I smiled. Relief tearing through me.

“Alright. So we wait.” He licked his lips. “Both of us. Get through it then…see what happens, yeah?”

“Yeah. We wait.”

Razor gave me one last kiss, then reached past me and opened the door.

We went downstairs together. Lennon was in the kitchen, unloading shopping onto the counter. He looked up when he heard us. Took us both in. He lifted his chin. Razor met his eyes and nodded once. I managed a small smile. But no one said anything. There was nothing to say. Lennon knew. Razor knew. I knew. And whatever had happened upstairs, whatever we’d allowed then taken back from ourselves, was done now.

At least for now.

Razor walked me to the front door and opened it for me.

The dusk had settled while we’d been upstairs. The air colder. The street quieter. I stepped out, turned back, and he was still there in the doorway, one hand on the frame, forehead resting on it, watching me as if fixing the sight of me somewhere permanent.

Then I went.

Across the path. Into my car. And I drove away with his house in the mirror until it disappeared.

* * * *

I got back to Baron’s Court with my head full of work I hadn’t touched yet. Not all of it was Razor’s case, but that was the one pressing hardest, the one I couldn’t set down even when I wanted to.

I parked, climbed the stairs, and my phone rang as I reached the landing.

Henry.

“Hey.” I unlocked the door as I answered.

“Are you busy?” His voice was thick. Not quite drunk. Getting there.

“I’ve just got in.” I shut the door behind me, tugged off my coat and scarf, hung them on the hook by habit, then dropped my bag on the sofa. “You all right?”

“No. No, Tris, I’m not.” He gave a short, humourless laugh. “Why are we still pretending these rules matter? Why do I even care about them? If a prince can marry a civilian, why can’t I?”

Zara.

“What happened?” I asked, though knowing the answer wouldn’t be small.

“She’s dating Barnaby Ashworth.”

I searched my memory. Came up blank. It had been a while since I’d kept track of that world. “I’m sorry, Hen.”

“Can I come over? We can drown in Chianti together.”

I glanced at the stack of files on the table, the notes I still needed to annotate. But Henry had done too much for me to leave him alone with this. “Yeah. Come round. I’ll order some tapas.”