Page 9 of Entity

“Ian,” I blurt.

He pauses and turns to face me, brows raised. There’s a spark of something like approval behind his eyes. Like maybe he wants this, too.

“Do you want to…” I bite my lip, tilting my head to indicate the room behind me, the bed.

He hesitates, and my heart stands still. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but he studies me for a moment, allowing his gaze to travel up from my feet to my breasts to my face, where he lingers.

God, I want him. Say yes, say yes, please…

After a long silence in which I almost spontaneously combust, Ian speaks. “Good night, Kit.”

Then he turns and closes the door behind him.

And I’m left standing there alone, burning up with arousal and shame.

4

I wakeup soon after sunrise. The remains of a dream fade from my mind like wisps of smoke, and as I blink awake, I try to grasp at them, pulling them to me for comfort. It was a sweet dream, familiar, like sinking into a warm bath. But I can’t remember the details. All I recall is afeeling, and arms around me, and knowing I was safe.

Rolling over onto my stomach, I groan into the pillow as the waking world takes hold. And then I remember last night.

I take a moment to wallow in embarrassment, staring out at the fog-thick city. It’s still raining. My head hurts, but it’s nothing a little water won’t fix.

Groaning, I roll out of bed and rummage in my duffle. I haven’t properly unpacked, and my duffle and the surrounding floor already look like an explosion site. Locating a comfortable pair of jeans and my favorite sweater, I dress quickly, shoving my recording device into my back pocket.

As I brush my teeth in the en suite, I stare at myself in the mirror, eyeing my dyed blonde hair and its dark roots. I stand out like a trashy thumb in these expensive surroundings. I wish I could undo all the mistakes from last night. The booze, the kiss,the pathetic invitation to bed. But if I’m already wishing, I may as well wish to undo all the other nights just like it.

Sighing, I pull my hair into a loose braid. Then I wash my face, swipe on some mascara, and call it good enough. If I make too much of an effort, Ian will think I’m trying to seduce him. Healreadythinks that.

“God, Katherine,” I say aloud to my reflection. My eyes are red-rimmed, my pale skin flushed with emotion. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

Unable to stand the sight of myself any longer, I turn back to the bedroom, staring listlessly out the window. The clouds are so low they’re almost on top of us, neon advertisements lighting up their undersides. I go to the window, determined to overcome the fear I felt last night. Maybe I can make myself into someone useful, piece by piece, if I try very hard.

I press my palm to the glass. It’s cold, foggy with condensation, and I imagine I can almost feel the rain on the other side, wind-lashed and icy.

Something buzzes through me all at once: excitement? Terror? Arousal? I gasp, closing my eyes, and suddenly I’m falling again. Tumbling out into the morning, the skyline needle-like below me. And then the abyss rises up, swallowing the skyline. Black. Endless. The abyss is a crack in the sky, or in my chest, and I’m drawn into it, slowly crushed under the pressure, unable to—

There’s a sharp knock at my door.

I jerk back to the moment, breathing hard.

“Just a second!” I call out, sitting on the edge of the bed. I take a few deep breaths, waiting for my adrenaline to chill. It’s the height. It’s fine. I’ll just stop looking out the windows.

When my heartbeat finally starts to slow, I go to the door and open it.

Ian stands outside, holding a steaming mug. He looks just as appealing this morning as he did last night, I notice with a pang of annoyance. “I thought you might need help with your early start.”

“Thanks,” I say, taking the mug. He seems… normal. Not avoiding my gaze, and he’s obviously not planning on kicking me out. Maybe my drunken antics really weren’t that bad. By the time we get downstairs, my spirits are a little higher.

I also can’t help but notice that Ian is dressed just as impeccably as last night, in black slacks and a grey Henley that looks like cashmere. But unlike last night, the round glasses are perched on Ian’s nose.

I swallow dryly, then take a much-needed sip of coffee. I was such an idiot to let him kiss me. Now that I know how good he tastes, I’ll never stop wanting him.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, gesturing toward the kitchen. “I have eggs, bacon, toast. I don’t cook much, but when I do, breakfast is my specialty.”

My stomach turns, a memory of too much to drink. I wrap both hands around my mug. “I’m okay for now. Just coffee’s good.”

He nods, smiling. “Sleep well? Ready to get started? Ready to meet Eros?”

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