Page 23 of The Eleventh Hour

“I couldn’t care less what Louis would think,” I snarl and bite down hard on my tongue when Sparrow’s eyebrows almost hit his hairline.

“Do you miss him?”

I scowl and stare at the books behind him for a moment before I answer. “I don’t miss him. I miss the relationship. Having someone there. Having a friend. I miss the pretend, the parts that were a lie.”

“Tell me about the first time you met.”

I want to groan, but I manage to hold the sound in my throat before it escapes. Sparrow’s losing patience with me, I can tell because the flicks of his pen have increased to almost blurring speed.

“It wasn’t supposed to rain that day. It was meant to be sunny. I was halfway to the college, and it started to rain. My work was going to get ruined, so I ducked under an awning, and he stepped out of the coffeehouse across the road. He was laughing, and he looked across the road and stopped. He walked right up to the curb and stared at me for a minute before he crossed. I couldn’t tear my gaze from his. He didn’t speak, he just walked up to me and slid his hand down my cheek to rest against my neck. Then he kissed me.”

“And you allowed that?”

I shrug. “It was a magnetism with him. Everything was- he was so…much more than anyone else I’d met. You didn’t really let Louis do anything. He did, and you were swept along.”

With the exception of one. Even Louis couldn’t hold a candle to Gideon. My imagination created the perfect warrior.

“We were inseparable after that.” Why am I so good at lying to this man? It’s unsettling that I don’t even feel twinges of guilt anymore.

“Hmm.”

I look around the room, trying to see if I can find anything that’s changed. It all looks identical to last time.

“What was your sex life like?”

I choke. “What?”

“What was the sex like, Miss Shade?”

I scramble for an answer. “It was pretty standard.”

“So, you would have me believe a man of that kind of magnetism had a boring sex life?”

I narrow my eyes on my hands and unclench them, noting absently the crescent cuts. “It was good, more than good. We would spend days in bed. Fucking, cuddling, eating, and fucking more. He never seemed to run out of energy,” I say everything with barely concealed anger and defiance.

“And his taste in positions?”

“The usual, I guess…” I shrug. “I’m not sure what you want to know.”

“Fine, let me be frank. Was he a deviant? Did he like to hurt you, chains, whips, humiliation, degradation, dominance, submission? Was he a fan of BDSM? What were his kinks? Did he piss on you, Jackie? Did he make you dress like an infant? Did he cut into your skin and get hard seeing you cry and bleed?” Sparrow is more animated than I’ve ever seen him. He’s practically drooling.

My eyes must be huge. They feel like they are bugging out of my head. Images flash through my head, but I push them away and slam the lid on those memories. Mine, I snarl in my head.

I shake my head. “I mean, he really got off on giving as many orgasms as he could, and he liked to have sex in public, but you know, doesn’t everyone?” With a glance at the black door, I chuckle nervously. “But no way was he into that freaky stuff. At least not with me.”

Sparrow frantically writes in his notebook. He studies it and purses his lips. “He liked the risk of getting caught. That was his kink.”

I nod my head emphatically. “I didn’t realise, but now that you say it like that, yeah, it makes sense.”

He sits back with a smug grin. I want to get this egg-shaped chair and smash him with it until he stops moving.

“What about fights?”

I blink at him. “Fights?”

“Did you fight?”

I shake my head. “No…not really. We had a perfect life together. We never argued.”

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