Page 58 of Seven Nights

“Please, baby.” I brace myself, anticipating her retreat and planning against it.

Katelyn presses closer, her arms fighting mine so that she can slip her hands around my waist and hug me.

“I couldn’t stop running,” she confesses.

As uncertain of her feelings as I have ever been, I don’t say anything, just listen. I stroke at her hair, refusing to draw a single breath until I know whether she has come to say one last goodbye in person.

“I wanted so many times to be here with you.” She buries her face against my chest, her tears penetrating the fabric to wet my skin. “So many of the things we talked about shouldn't have been said over the phone. We should have been holding one another. It's my fault we weren't. Maybe if I was here…”

She trails off. I can’t let her retreat. Gently, I take hold of her shoulders.

“What, love?”

She closes her eyes, her body shaking hard enough to rattle the words that leave her.

“Maybe you wouldn’t retreat.”

My hands go numb.

Did I really think I could get around this moment? This inevitability?

Katelyn shakes her head. “It’s okay.”

I watch her turn toward the door. I should pull her back, say something.

She turns the lock, flips the entry light off.

My hands have fallen to my sides. She takes one and pulls me deeper into the penthouse. She sees the fireplace, but doesn’t lead me toward it.

“Where is your bedroom?”

My bedroom?

Okay, maybe I am dreaming.

She gives an impatient tug on my arm and repeats the question.

“Where?”

“The hall to the right of the fireplace,” I answer as she drags me into the living room.

Katelyn kisses my hand then drops it. She walks ahead of me, hips swaying. The sash on the coat comes off. Rock hard, my cock jumps forward.

Head and heart urge caution. I still don’t understand the sudden change, the lack of warning. She had to already be in Chicago when we were talking on the phone earlier. She didn’t bring a suitcase with her. I don’t even see a handbag.

“Kate, baby,” I say. “I’m confused.”

My cock bobs, tapping out a demand for me to shut my fucking mouth.

She stops at the door to the master suite. Her hands clasp the lapels of the raincoat so that it doesn’t fall open.

“We’re going in there, and we’re going to make love,” she answers. “But we’re also going to talk. You’re going to find a way to tell me some of what you keep holding back. Blindfold me, bind me, do whatever you want—but talk to me.”

I nod as she turns the handle on the door. I want to give Katelyn the world. Certainly that includes at least a little piece of my past.

Seeing that the fireplace in the living room also opens onto the master bedroom, she slides the darkened glass screens to allow the light and heat into the room. Then she stands at the foot of the bed, facing out and once more clutching the lapels of her coat.

Awaiting my instruction, she drops her gaze.

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