Page 75 of My Craving

Fuck, he looks good like that.

I grab his shirt from the floor and pull it on instead of looking for my own clothes. The hem falls almost to my mid-thigh, and Duncan’s eyes drag slowly over me when I turn around. The look on his face makes it pretty clear he likes seeing me in his clothes.

He gets out of bed and reaches for his pants. “Come on. Before you starve to death.”

I follow him downstairs and climb onto one of the stools at the kitchen island while he starts opening cabinets.

“What do you want?”

“I don’t care. Whatever’s quick.”

He opens the refrigerator and starts pulling things out while I watch him move around the kitchen. He’s still shirtless and barefoot, his hair a mess from sleep and sex, and I’m so used to seeing him in a suit or workout clothes that I can’t stop staring. I prop my chin on my hand and watch him make us something to eat. I could definitely get used to seeing Duncan like this.

We eat at the island without bothering to turn on most of the lights. Neither of us talks much, but the silence is comfortable. I sit beside him with my knee pressed against his and finish everything on my plate, and by the time we’re done, I’m full and tired all over again.

Duncan carries our plates to the sink, and I slide off the stool and hold out my hand. His eyes drop to it for a second before his fingers slide through mine. I smile and lead him out of the kitchen, leaving the dishes in the sink for tomorrow.

Upstairs, I pull Duncan’s shirt over my head and toss it onto the floor before crawling beneath the covers. He gets in beside me, and I immediately move into him, tucking myself against his chest as his arm comes around my waist.

His hand moves slowly over my back, and he presses a kiss into my hair. I close my eyes with my face against his chest, warm, full and completely fucking content. I fall asleep again within minutes.

Chapter 35 Duncan

I wake before Nash, which isn’t surprising considering we slept half the day yesterday and came back to bed after we ate. He’s practically on top of me, his head tucked beneath my chin, one leg thrown over mine and his arm wrapped around my waist.

I’ve never needed another person beside me when I sleep. Even when I was married, I tolerated sharing a bed more than I enjoyed it. With Nash, I like waking up with his weight against me. I run my hand slowly down his back, and he moves closer in his sleep, pressing his face into my chest as his arm tightens around my waist.

My phone is within reach on the nightstand. Alina is still out there; we don’t know who Dare is, and Saturday’s charity gala is getting closer. Normally, I would’ve checked for messages the second I opened my eyes. Instead, I keep my hand on Nash’s back.

Months ago, I watched the men in my family rearrange their lives around the people they loved and couldn’t understand how it happened so easily. Nash presses closer in his sleep, and I look at the phone again without reaching for it. Apparently, I understand now.

The phone on Nash’s side of the bed vibrates against the nightstand. He ignores it until it goes off a second time, then reaches for it without lifting his head from my chest.

“If that’s Max sending me another video before nine in the morning, I’m blocking him.”

He squints at the screen for several seconds before pushing himself higher against me. “It’s Zee. He found something on the Rusus.”

I reach for my phone, but Nash catches my wrist. “Give me a minute before you call Ronan. Zee’s been working on this since I gave him everything I found in Alina’s hotel room. If there’s something here, Ronan can verify it once we know what we’re looking at.”

I sit back against the headboard while Nash opens the files. We agreed to work this together, and calling Ronan before Nash has even read what Zee sent would be doing exactly what I promised him I wouldn’t.

Nash reads for several minutes before turning the screen toward me. “Ion and Elena have been dead for almost five years. Zee found the Romanian police records. They were killed in their home, and the police eventually classified it as a robbery gone wrong.”

I take the phone and read through Zee’s notes. There was no forced entry, their security system had been disabled and the house had been searched, but very little of value was taken. Whoever went inside wasn’t interested in jewelry or anything else that would make a robbery worth the risk.

“They were looking for something specific.”

“Zee thinks it was money.” Nash takes the phone and opens another file. “He found correspondence between Alina and her parents from before they died. She was convinced they were hiding money from her, and it all goes back to Maria.”

Nash opens another file and hands the phone back to me. The messages are mostly arguments between Alina and her parents. She repeatedly accuses them of lying about what they recovered after Maria disappeared, while Ion insists there’s nothing and Elena keeps telling her to stop looking. Alina doesn’t believe either of them, and the messages continue until Ion and Elena are killed.

Nash rests his shoulder against mine. “Zee went through their financial records to see if Alina ever found whatever she thought they were hiding. She didn’t. There wasn’t an account full of Maria’s money waiting for her after they died.”

I scroll through the records attached beneath the messages. Ion and Elena had spent years looking for Maria themselves, following transfers and old accounts without ever finding the woman they believed had stolen from them and disappeared. They had no way of knowing Maria had been dead the entire time they were searching for her.

“The eight million wasn’t all of it.”

“No.” Nash opens another set of records. “Zee found transfers showing Maria was moving money before she ever came to Philadelphia. Some of it belonged to her family, and there are other accounts he hasn’t been able to trace all the way back yet.”