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beside me. “What are you thinking about?”
    “Nothing.”
    I put the snow globe down on the table, turned to him, and looped my arms around his neck. I tilted up my head, and my gaze traced over Owen’s features. The white scar that cut across his chin, firm lips, slightly crooked nose, and finally up to his eyes.
    As always, I looked deep into his violet gaze, losing myself in the pale, amethyst color, searching for a sign, a hint, a flash of feeling that would tell me that he’d finally wised up and decided to end things with me. That Owen saw how dark and twisted I really was deep down and that it finally, ultimately, disgusted him, the way that it had Donovan Caine, the man I’d been involved with before Owen came along.
    As always, I saw nothing. No fear, no condemnation, no disgust. Only acceptance.
    Owen put his hands around my waist and drew me into the warm embrace of his arms. His hands moved up my back, massaging my tight muscles, before slidingdown to the curve of my ass and pulling me against him, so that I could feel every hard inch of him rubbing against the junction of my thighs, even through the thick fabric of my jeans.
    “Mmm,” I said. “Someone’s happy to see me.”
    Owen bent his head and pressed a soft kiss to my throat. Heat flooded my veins at the gentle contact.
    “Always,” he agreed.
    I turned my head, and our lips met. We kissed slowly at first, sweetly, gently even. Our lips just brushing, our hands just skimming over each other’s bodies. I breathed in Owen’s scent, that rich, earthy aroma that always made me think of metal, something he had an elemental talent for using. But the connection between us flared too bright, burned too hot, to be contained for long.
    The kiss deepened, and our tongues got involved, tasting each other. Owen’s hands slid up under my shirt, gliding across my stomach. Mine drifted lower, moving across his hips. Both of us not going any farther with our teasing—at least not yet.
    “You know,” Owen murmured against my lips. “I think that Eva had an excellent idea about going to bed. Care to join me?”
    “Why bother with bed?” I jerked my head. “I see a perfectly serviceable couch right there.”
    “Hmm,” Owen said, grinning down at me. “Have I ever told you what good ideas you have, Gin?”
    I smiled up at him. “No, but you could show me.”
    “Oh, I plan to. Don’t you worry about that.”
    Owen drew me closer. His lips met mine again, and I surrendered to him for the night.

4
     
    Since it was less than a week before Christmas, Owen was taking some time off from his various business interests, which meant that he got to sleep in the next morning. But I still had a barbecue restaurant to run, so I slipped out of bed early and took a hot shower.
    Owen was still asleep when I finished getting ready. He sprawled face down on the king-size bed, a soft blanket covering his bare back, one strong arm jutting off the mattress into the empty air in front of the nightstand.
    I stood there by the bed, staring down at him. Blue-black hair, rough, chiseled features, hard body. Owen Grayson was everything that I’d ever wanted in a lover. Attentive, inventive, skilled, confident. But the strangest thing was that he really seemed to care about me, Gin Blanco. The semiretired assassin known as the Spider.
    After we’d finished in the living room, we’d gone into Owen’s bedroom to spend the rest of the night together.Owen had wrapped us both in a fleece blanket, and we’d sat there in front of the crackling fire, talking until the orange-red flames died down to glowing embers. We’d discussed everything from my ongoing war with Mab to my weird relationship with Bria to the new Mercedes that he’d decided to give Eva for Christmas. To my surprise, it felt good to talk to Owen, to just be with him, sex or not.
    And it scared the hell out of me.
    I wasn’t sure if I wanted that kind of relationship with him. My former lover, Detective Donovan