Page 132 of The Billion Heirs Boxed Set
“Then don’t.”
“Are you willing to forget about him?” Mark gestures to Miles.
I look at the guy who’s only been nice to me. Kind. Attentive. Thorough.
No.
The word is lodged in the back of my throat, and it desperately wants out.
But I also love my work, and this dead body is the most exciting case to come out of Bayfield in the little over a year that I’ve been here.
“Mark,” I say. “Who I see is my own business. If evidence comes to light linking Miles to the body, I will stop seeing him or I will recuse myself from the case. But until then, there’s no reason for me not to see him.”
A giant cement block lifts from my shoulders.
I stood up for myself. I stood up for Miles.
It feels damned good. What’s happening between us is real.
Why didn’t I just do that in the first place instead of telling Mark that Miles had come over to talk to me about the case? Instead, I made what we did seem naughty or illicit. We are grown-ups on our own time doing our own thing.
I offer a glance up at Miles, whose jaw is clenched, and he’s glaring daggers at Mark. His anger is directed at my partner right now, but I’m sure some of it is for me. That I asked him to hide in the bedroom in the first place. He probably thinks I feel it was tawdry and wrong.
It doesn’t feel wrong. It feels…right.
God, one night and I’m in trouble. I ache for him to tell me I’m his good girl once more. To look at me as he did last night. Even a short time ago.
He has to forgive me. He has to. I don’t want to give him up.
“Have it your way, Hopkins. I think you’re headed for heartache.” He nods to the files he brought over. “Analyze those. I want a full report Monday morning.”
Not only do I have to work all weekend, I probably won’t see Miles again once he walks out that door.
I think you're headed for heartache.
Mark was wrong. I’m already there.
9
MILES
“Miles…”
Damn her. Damn Sadie Hopkins. I brush past her to the door, even though every cell in my body is screaming to stay. To throw her over my shoulder and take her back to bed. To fuck her hard. To spank that creamy white ass for lying about us.
Sure, she eventually told the truth, but still…
“Don’t go,” she pleads.
God, that voice. That sweet and tender voice—the voice that called my name so many times last night.
She has the voice of an angel, and the growling moans of a little devil.
And I adore both sides of her.
Except the side that’s ashamed of what we’ve done.
“I have to go,” I say without turning around.
