Page 56 of Ruined By the Enemy
Or it’s Sophie, finding her way around in my house.
In my head.
I turn the ignition off, stepping out of the car with an inside sigh. The door swings into silence as I walk in, and my steps are the only sound that carries with me through the living room and into the hallway leading to the kitchen.
A half-drunk bottle of brandy stares at me through frosted glass, and I run my tongue over my lip, thinking of the good a glass would do.
I shake my head.
I’m gradually turning into an alcoholic—a glass or two a day to keep the thoughts away. And it hasn’t been up for a week yet.
“I need to sleep, that’s what,” I mutter, heading further down and turning towards the stairs. Sophie’s room is on the first floor, while mine is on the second, but it hasn’t stopped my thoughts from wandering.
It makes it worse… sleeping under warm sheets that remind me of her scent, even though she’s never stepped a foot beyond my door.
Staring up at the ceiling because I can’t sleep brings to mind the image of her straddling me, her eyes glazed over and her thighs trembling as she rides me. The way her lips parted—like she was trying to breathe and let go at the same time—still plays on a loop behind my eyes.
I should be over it by now. I should’ve moved past the taste of her skin, the feel of her body locking around mine.
But I haven’t.
“I might need that drink after all.”
A glass or two might not send me to sleep, but at least it’ll help speed up the process by the time I’ve tired myself out.
I choose the bottle and a bigger glass, then ditch my bag on the counter while I make my way to my study to catch up on some more.Killing two birds with one stone.
“Because drowning yourself in work is the perfect way to ignore the thing eating you alive.”Raff’s words nudge me like a sore thumb sticking into my side and a taunting “I-told-you-so.”
I ignore it.
The door to my study is closed, but a noise from inside snaps my focus. It’s faint, and I might not have noticed if I hadn’t been thinking about her already. But the caramel and honey notes that slip through the tiny gap between the door and the wall.
I stop mid-step.
Sophie.
Twisting the handle soundlessly, I push the door open just enough to see inside. The lamp on my desk spills light over stacks of documents, casting soft shadows. And in the middle of it all is Sophie.
She doesn’t notice me at first. I lean away, my back against the wall, watching her.
So much for someone who’s supposed to have her guard up.She doesn’t look like she’s meant to be snooping either.
Not with the silk night shorts that ride high as she bends over my desk, or the pads of her foot that lift off the floor. My throat warms as I watch, mimicking the effect of liquor running down and losing its coolness.
Her fingers skim across the top page of a confidential acquisition file, one I left out because I assumed no one in this house would dare touch it.
She leans closer, eyes narrowed, lips slightly parted as she reads.
“Snooping through someone’s private documents,” I say coldly, “usually requires more stealth.”
She jumps—visibly startled—as she slams the file shut, the sharp clap echoing in the room. Her head whips toward me, guilt flickering across her face before her expression smooths into defense.
“I wasn’t—” she begins.
“Don’t lie to me.” I shut the door behind me. The bottle and glass dangle from my fingertips. “You’re in my office, Sophie. That negates the argument you’re about to make, so I suggest you think wisely.”
She straightens slowly, eyes locked on mine. “I couldn’t sleep.”
