Page 64 of Knotted Laces

I flick my gaze to Athena, who’s sitting on the porch, feet up on the railing, laptop open, brow furrowed in concentration, and…

I know I need a little more time.

I turn away say quietly, “Tuesday?”

There’s a flash of white on the other side of the riverbank and I hear the amusement in his voice when Dan replies. “Have a call out here Wednesday afternoon. That work for you?”

I grin.

Best wingman ever.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Athena

I didn’t knowit was possible to have this much sex. It’s glorious.

And yes, I’m sore.

“Here you go, cupcake,” Cam murmurs, leaning in to settle a plate in front of me. A steaming hot cinnamon roll is on it—of course—but this time he’s added fruit.

“Trying to corrupt me?”

He kisses the top of my head. “I like you corrupt.”

“Considering what you did to me this morning to wake me up, I thinkyou’rethe corrupt one.”

A chuckle. “Well, eat your fruit and youtoocan be corrupt.”

I grin, shake my head, but pick up a slice of apple and start chomping. “Happy?”

“If you’re happy,” he murmurs, sitting next to me and settling one big warm palm on my thigh. My pussy clenches, remembering the pleasure that hand can give me, but my heart clenches harder.

Iamhappy.

Which makes the panic inside me grow, threatening to send me mountain-goating across the river.

I take a breath, manage to I shove it down, to inhale, exhale, and just…

Well, fuck, whycan’tI just be happy for the moment?

My phone buzzes on that thought and I glance down, see a familiar number on the screen.

Not work—because when I wasn’t being fucked into oblivion the last few days, I’ve been glued to my laptop and liaising with my team and working my way through a bunch of new data and financial records that just came in.

It doesn’t make sense, but I’m getting closer.

I squeeze the side of my phone, stopping the buzzing, but when Cam says, “I’ll step out so you can answer that,” something inside me shifts.

He knows that work stuff is confidential, that I can’t talk freely with someone not on the case.

But he doesn’t know who’s on the other end of the call.

And…I want to take the universe’s sign—my past coming in to remind me of all the things I can’t do—and back the fuck up, distance myself from this vulnerability.

Want to avoid, fuckingavoidall of this shit.

Only, I don’t want to lose the warm hand on my thigh, the gentle man at my side. I want to eat my cinnamon roll while it’s hot and joke about choking down the “healthy” apple slices.

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