Page 6 of Betrayed
I think back to the first time I saw her, standing there at my doorway. There was nothing vulnerable about her; her chin heldhigh, those bright blue eyes sharp and focused, and she wore her long dark hair like a crown.
Now, I’m desperate.
Desperate to see her. To hold her. To smell her.
My phone feels heavy in my pocket. Finally, I bring it to my ear, waiting for the voicemail I know is coming. She hasn’t answered in days.
Is it wrong that hearing her voice on the recording gets me aroused?
“Hiya, it’s Erin. You know what to do.”
And I do.
“The time for games is over. If you don’t come here tonight, I’ll hunt you down.”
I toss the phone on the bar and reach for the whiskey.
A half hour later, the door opens. She closes it, slipping the fob in her pocket.
My heart lurches to my throat. “You’re here.”
She smiles at me. “You’re late.”
I have to grin at our inside joke. “You’re the one who’s late.”
“No, I’m not.”
She stands there, untying the belt of her coat, letting it slide to the floor, just as she did that first night. She’s wearing the same simple black sheath dress, with the same expression on her face.
I can barely breathe.
“I’m early. I was already headed here when I got your voicemail.” She cocks a brow. “Hunt me down?”
“Lucky for you, it didn’t come to that.”
Her turn to smile. The corner of her mouth curls into a half-grin.
She’s here. She’s real.
I approach her in three strides, and I have her in my arms.
Right where she belongs.
There’s no teasing or hesitation. Just heat and desperation from both sides. The way she kisses me back feels like she’s afraid she’ll lose the feel of me if she doesn’t get me now.
I back her against the wall, her breath catching as her spine hits it. Her legs wrap around my waist before I can even ask, and my hand moves between her thighs as if it has a mind of its own.
Fuck, she’s already soaked through her panties.
“You’re finally here,” I rasp, burying my face in her neck. She smells like her familiar scent and regret. “Why haven’t you returned my calls, Erin?”
She doesn’t respond with words. Instead, she responds with need. Fingers in my hair. Mouth seeking mine as if she’s starving. Hips moving, pulling me closer.
I hold her back from kissing me to demand, “Say my name.”
She holds my gaze, breathless. “Lucian.”
The sound of my name on her lips—it makes me desperate.
