Page 16 of Seduce Me in Shadow

It figures that Sydney is too smart to leave important information on a system that could be hacked. But waiting until Monday isn’t an option. Anka is alone, possibly in pain or danger. Sydney will, no doubt, be crafting more stories over the weekend. Every minute, Lucan slides closer to death. While I’m grateful Morgana Le Fay is no longer around to wield that damned diary of hers, the book in a human reporter’s hands can only be a disaster.

I have to talk to Sydney. I may even have to take Bram’s suggestion and seduce her. I’d rather not use Sydney—or risk getting closer to her. But time is short, and I don’t have enough of it to gain her trust through smooth talk alone.

It’s time for something rash.

Chapter

Eight

Sydney

As I sip tea the next morning, my thoughts drift to Caden. Again. Just like last night.

Not for the first time since meeting him, my dreams were explicit and filthy. I woke in a panting sweat, desperate for his touch. God knows I tried to put out the fire, but my battery-operated boyfriend was no match for my five-alarm blaze.

I shouldn’t be this fixated. Of course he’s attractive, but this is mad. The man wants nothing to do with me. Yet I can’t help but wonder… Does the little red book Aquarius gave me really make sexual fantasies come true?

Yes, I deal in the paranormal, but the possibility that a worn-down red book could improve my orgasm quotient with a few strokes of my pen sounds farfetched. Besides, what kind of sad sack would magically coerce a man who hasn’t shown the slightest interest into bed?

A sudden knock interrupts my reverie. Who the bloody hell is that? I’m not chummy with my neighbors, and I’m not expecting visitors on a Saturday morning.

Frowning, I dash across my flat and grip the knob, lamenting my lack of a peephole. “Who is it?”

“Caden.”

Shock trips my system. My heart stutters. He’shere?

As if my thoughts conjured him?

After fumbling with the lock, I jerk open the door. And there Caden stands, in the flesh—five o’clock shadow dusting his hard jaw, black T-shirt plastered across his wide chest, and faded jeans hugging him in all the right places.

I try not to look gobsmacked, but I fail miserably. “You’re here?”

His lingering stare takes me in before he swallows hard. “Is now a bad time?”

For him to drop in, looking sexy as hell? “No.”

His stare turns even more blatant, raking down my body. “Can I, um…come in?”

Why does his voice sound so strained? And why the devil is he staring at me like he’s itching to rip off every stitch I’m wearing and devour me whole? I’m not complaining, mind you, but…

I look down at myself—and gasp in mortification. Caden’s sudden appearance flustered me so much I utterly forgot what I’m wearing.

Or rather, what I’m not.

Lingerie is my one indulgence. Last night, I slept in my latest…and skimpiest. The lace-edged straps of the camisole cling to my shoulders. More lace trims the low-cut V that grazes the swells of my cleavage. Thin, flesh-colored mesh cups my breasts, as I’ve fantasized about Caden’s hands doing, and all but exposes my nipples to his darkening stare.

The longer he looks at me, the more his body gets taut. His jaw hardens. Is the rest of him following the trend?

I fight the urge to look down.

Caden has no such hesitation. His stare devours my bare legs before blatantly screeching to a stop on the transparent knickers between them. He focuses rightthere, on the fiery hair dusting my pussy.

I feel myself get wet. I can’t breathe.

Oh, god.

“Wait here,” I squeak out before sidling down the hall to my closet. I’m shaking when I return moments later, wearing a matching dressing gown. It doesn’t cover everything, but it’s mostly decent.

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