Page 60 of Seduce Me in Shadow

“You scared me. Come in. I-I’m so sorry about Holly and?—”

“I don’t bloody care about the job.” He takes a step inside my flat, sheds his coat, then shuts the door behind him, his eyes boring into mine. “I couldn't stay away from you.”

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

Caden

Icurl my fingers into fists at my sides, trying to keep my hands to myself. Sydney looks edible in a short black skirt and a shiny copper blouse. The former clings lovingly to her hips; the latter provides a mouthwatering glimpse of cleavage. The remnants of a reddish gloss stain her lips, and she’s swept her long hair back into some feminine knot that makes my fingers itch to undo it as I unravel her.

Without thinking, I cross the room, burning to taste her lush mouth—and any other part of her she’ll let me.

But I can’t. Down that path lays disaster.

Damn it, I’m here to end this mission, not add fuel to the fire. Already, tonight is going to hurt.

Blast Bram and his grand schemes. I only agreed to this one because it should keep Sydney safe.

But she’ll also hate me forever.

Bloody hell, I feel rotten. Tired, hot, and aroused, my thoughts are sluggish and my body demanding. Worse today than yesterday by far.

Bloody transition is coming early, I fear.

“We should talk,” I finally say.

Cautiously, she nods and locks the door behind me, then heads for the kitchen, casting an uncertain glance over her shoulder.

Damn. I want to be rational in her presence. A gentleman. But the urge to fuck her until she screams my name, until I imprint on her soul, coupled with the gut-wrenching fear this is the last time I’ll ever see her, makes that impossible.

“Tea?”

“No,” I scratch out. “Thank you.”

“Something stronger?” She reaches to the top of a cabinet and pulls out a bottle of whiskey.

Dangerous. If I cloud my judgment with alcohol, no telling how little conversation we’ll have and how much shagging we’ll do. I owe her my best behavior, even if everything inside urges me to claim her.

I shake my head. “Can we sit?”

Sydney hesitates, then crosses to the sofa. I sit beside her, intentionally keeping space between us. But bloody hell, even at this distance she smells like raspberry and jasmine and softness. I swallow as need claws at my restraint. Everything about her lures me. My awareness is sharper tonight, painful almost. My body shakes. As hot as I feel, I would swear it was July during a swelter, not late November.

“Why are you here?” she asks. “If it’s to pick up where we left off?—”

“I came to explain.”

She raises a ginger brow.

“I swear, I didn’t try to steal your magical war story. Who would I sell it to?”

“You must know we have competitors who are ruthless and not at all picky about ethics.”

“I’m not one of them. Please trust me on that.”

“Holly caught you eavesdropping. If you didn’t have thievery in mind, what were you doing?”

How the devil can I answer that question without stepping on verbal landmines? “I needed to know who rang you. If you were seeing another man.”

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