Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 115860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 579(@200wpm)___ 463(@250wpm)___ 386(@300wpm)
I put a hand over my mouth. “Not before I’ve brushed my teeth. You’ll thank me later.”
She frowns. “You say the right things, but I get the feeling that once you walk out the door, we’ll never be this close again.”
I try like hell to keep my expression neutral, but the distress on her face tells me I’ve failed Subterfuge 101.
“It’s…um, a complicated time in my life, with my brother, my parents, and assorted other issues. If it weren’t for all that, everything between us would be different. I would choose you, Sydney, and I would never let you go.”
I force my mouth shut. Stop. There. Now. The canned response I should have given her about being interested and taking it one day at a time? Not in my vocabulary. What on earth possessed me to be so honest?
Despite not lying—or perhaps because of it—she clutches the sheet tight against her breasts and looks ready to cry. “Are you leaving because I won’t give up my source? Had you hoped to shag it out of me?”
Regret slices me to the bone. “No, you’re right. Mixing business and pleasure isn’t wise.”
“Then go. We’ll forget last night ever happened.”
Impossible.
Her face is a kick to the heart. I’m heartily sick of playing this wretched game. Why the fuck did Bram drag me into his problems? “Sydney, later, if my life becomes less complicated…”
She shuts her eyes and shakes her head. “Don’t say anything you don’t mean.”
I nod. I won’t spew reassurances I can’t give her.
Reluctantly, I turn and leave her bedroom with a last glance over my shoulder at her pale curves barely concealed in the white sheet, surrounded by a halo of that fiery hair. I struggle for the fortitude to leave, knowing my chances of ever holding her again are slim.
But I force myself to put one foot in front of the other and disappear down her hall.
Halfway to the door, I hear her murmur, “We both know there’s no ‘later’ for us.”
The truth is like a brutal uppercut to my abdomen. I brace myself against the wall and, fists clenched, try to catch my breath. It takes everything inside me not to return to her.
Damn it all! I stupidly thought I could leave here with my heart intact, but I’m at least twelve hours too late.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Sydney
Isit behind my desk, steaming coffee at my elbow, and struggle to focus. Weak sunlight leaks through my office window. It’s an ungodly seven in the morning, but it won’t be long before Caden arrives, and I have to look at him. Work with him.
Be unable to touch him.
Last night was, in a word, incredible. He was so passionate, so wrapped up in us as he kept me trembling for more, despite giving me one orgasm after another. Caden was the lover I’ve always wanted. Well, except for the fact he never kissed me. Odd, that. Then again, we were so busy doing other dizzyingly pleasurable things together.
But we’re done now. And the sense of rightness I felt between us last night is gone. He snuffed it out. With regret, obviously. That doesn’t change reality, however. He’s letting everything going on in his life come between us.
Then again, is he the one who truly ruined us? Maybe last night only happened because I wished it into reality, a byproduct of the fact I wrote my fantasy about him in that damned red book. Right down to the connection that made my heart leap.
If that’s the case, how bloody ridiculous and pathetic. I deserve my heartache.
Penning my sexual fantasy in the book and having it come true seems fantastic, but then I write about the unexplained all day. And I’ve believed more than a few of my articles. I just never imagined something woo-woo would happen to me.
Maybe I underestimated the diary.
I cover my face and fight tears. Even knowing Caden is after the name of my informant in the magical war story, I still confessed my desire for him in writing, then succumbed to his touch. And I blamed him. God, how mental!
Granted, we clicked, but I have to put this into perspective. We didn’t share a grand affair of the heart. It was a shag, right? I’ve never allowed any man to break my heart, and Caden won’t earn that distinction after a single night, especially if I brought this mess on myself.
Launching my email, I vow to focus. I perk up when I see a message sent last night from a uni friend who works in the coroner’s office. She has news regarding the partially decomposed bodies of the soldiers in the tunnel discovered just over two weeks ago. The email simply reads: Call me before nine.
Heart pounding, palms sweating, I ring Chloe’s mobile.
“’lo,” answers a groggy man.
“Is Chloe there?”
After a moment of shuffling and a giggle, my old friend answers, “Syd?”