Page 66 of Heartless Sinner

“Good. I would hate for him to be another Anton.”

“Me too.”

She squeezes my hand again and I cling to her like a lifeline. “You’ll get through this, Scarlett. Let’s just be glad the worst seems to be over.”

“I truly hope so.”

My heart can’t take any more pain.

Lucy stays with me all afternoon and leaves at nightfall. When she’s gone, I check in on Dad then indulge in a long bath with scented oils and scented this and that.

I soak my tired body for three hours while I read the copy ofPride and PrejudiceI got from the library downstairs.

I’ve never been in a house that had its own library, much less one that looked like it came straight from the set ofBeauty and the Beast. I had fun exploring all the books and I plan to go down there again tomorrow.

It’s ten when I get in bed, and I lie there wrapped in the silky sheets wondering what I’m supposed to do.

Micah’s scent taunts me, picking at the myriad of questions floating around in my mind.

Do I wait for him to come home?

Maybe he’s busy with someone else.Another woman.

He could be with another woman. And I’d have no right to say anything because I’m a contract. The agreement we have is mutually beneficial.

It’s business. So, he’s not mine and I have no claim on him whatsoever.

Nothing except the undiluted attraction that seems to possess me when I’m around him. I felt it again in the alley and it was scary how it made me forget everything that wasn’t him.

I stare up at the ceiling, admiring the patterns and grooves on the plaster until my lids become heavy and that feeling of safety wraps around my body with protective arms.

I drift into a deep sleep, but it doesn’t seem like it’s that long before I open my eyes again to the sound of water running.The shower.

It’s not loud at all, but my recent dance with paranoia has left my hearing more sensitive of the slightest of sounds.

A quick glance at the clock on the wall tells me it’s three in the morning. I didn’t think I’d slept for that long.

I gaze ahead at the bathroom door, every nerve ending in my body alive with anticipation. It’s obviously Micah in the shower—because who else would be using it?

He’s back. And I’ve never been more awake.

The sound of running water cuts off abruptly and my breath hitches.

Droplets hitting the tile floor count down the seconds until the door opens, releasing a cloud of steam into the moonlit bedroom.

And there he stands.

Micah fills the doorway like a god carved from shadow and sin. The moonlight filtering through my curtains catches his eyes, turning them mercurial.

The water trailing down the rigid planes of his abs draws my attention to every muscle and those tattoos that had my mouth watering from the first night we met.

I devour the sight, and shamelessly, my fingers ache to trace the intricate lines of ink that start at his collarbone and sweep down his right arm in a sleeve of darkness.

The ravens inked on him take their flight through thorned roses, their wings spreading across his shoulder blade calling to me to fly with them.

I scan over the rest of the tattoos, trailing down, down until my eyes meet the fluffy white towel slung low on his hips, which does nothing to hide the hard bulge of his cock pressing against it.

Realizing I’m staring, I look back at his face and our eyes lock. The way he looks back at me has my blood heating.

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