Page 93 of Damaged

I want James here. With me. I don’t know what kind of business he has, but I have an idea it has to do with the heist. I can’t ask him to hide out with me, not when his eyes burn whenever he catches sight of my bruises.

I have to assure myself that he doesn’t like me any less after sex. That he’s not one of those guys who disappears after he’s gotten what he wants. That’s not what this escape is. He can’t stand to see me hurt, and he plans to do something about it.

Right?

I gulp. I’m not totally convinced.

He’s going to the city, and I’m not sure I want to know his real reason for leaving. “Alright,” I say and hop off the bed with the big blanket over my shoulders. I’m trying not to make a scene. To suffocate my feelings. I walk over to him and stand on my tiptoes for a kiss.

It’s short, and my lips do all the work. I go back down to my flat feet and pat his chest again. “Just do me a favor and leave your toothbrush, okay?” I say, teasing.

I’m not able to get a smile out of him. “Of course,” he says seriously. His mind is obviously elsewhere, and I can’t hide my disappointment. “When I get back, we’ll spend some time together, I promise.”

I nod. The house suddenly feels so silent. The snow outside falls without a sound. The wind is strong enough to sway branches, but I can’t hear it. I’m cautious of asking a question that might scare him, but standing naked in his bedroom, I can’t help it.

“James… is this anything more than two adults having fun?”

“Does it feel like it to you?”

“Yeah,” I say quietly and nod.

“Then there’s your answer.” He kisses me, this time taking my top lip between his passionately. “I’ll be back in a day. Two tops, snowflake.”

“Is it crazy to say I’ll miss you?”

“No.” He smiles genuinely, and my worried heart starts to unfreeze a little. “I think I’ll miss you, too.”

I hook my fingers gently in the waistband of his pants. A part of me wants to tell him to stay. To get back into bed naked with me and leave only for food and water, but he has to fix whatever is eating at him.

Maybe he’s putting private investigators on the case. Maybe he has a mountain of paperwork to file for insurance after the robbery. Either way, I realize it’s childish to ask him to play hooky with me.

He’s the one with responsibilities. This heist is global news. Our picture is at the center of it.

“You should get dressed.” James trails a finger over my bare chest. “The last thing I want is for you to catch a cold. We’ve got a lot of bodily fluids to share when I get back, you know?”

I smile and feel ten pounds lighter hearing him joke. He’s got paperwork, I assure myself. That’s all. “Sounds like a deal,” I say.

“Alright, snowflake, let’s give you the grand tour.” He throws on a black T-shirt and offers me one of the same.

“Wow, an upgrade from the workout shirt, I see,” I say, taking it.

“You’re a good lay. I had to make sure you were deserving.”

“You’re a gentleman.” I put on the black T-shirt and then my panties. The sweatpants he gave me are torn at the waist and wouldn’t fit back on me with a rope belt.

I’m going to have to get new clothes sooner rather than later, or I’m going to be wandering around these halls in his oversized bathrobe.

But that wouldn’t be the worst thing.

James shows me the lounge, the study, the living room. It’s all chic. Mid-century modern furniture. Floors of blond maple. The white walls have darker contrasting paintings of winter landscapes. I wonder if he has the art swapped out depending on the season and figure he probably does.

“You can stay in the master,” says James after the tour. “I figure as long as we’re both staying here, we can share a bed.”

“Sounds good,” I say, keeping it cool. The idea of sleeping next to James makes my heart go galloping off again. “Why dirty two pairs of sheets?”

“Exactly,” he says quietly and without much enthusiasm. I can tell from his tone and his far-off gaze that in a way, he’s already gone. Plotting. Thinking. Getting a head start on whatever it is he must do in New York.

He doesn’t have a bag to pack. We go to the entrance hall, and he shrugs on his black wool coat.

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