The silence crashes into me harder than my orgasm did. My pulse is erratic, my thighs trembling, my skin still damp with sweat. My lips are swollen from his kiss, my body humming.
But inside…
… inside I feel fractured.
I stare at the door, stunned, my hands shaking violently as I clutch the sheets to my chest. My breathing comes fast anduneven, like I’ve just run a race and lost at the finish line. The room feels colder without him, and I can’t make sense of how quickly the heat of his mouth, his hands, his body, all of him was ripped away.
Marcus, I’m so, so sorry.
The thought claws at me.
I’m sorry I let him touch me.
Sorry, I let myself want the man who might have been your end.
Tears sting, but they don’t fall. My body still aches, my clit throbbing with need, and that betrays me worse than anything.
Because beneath the guilt, deeper than grief, is the undeniable truth…
I don’t regret it.
Not one second.
I ache for Sin, body and soul.
And wanting him feels like the worst kind of sin.
I stare at the closed door for a long moment, my mind reeling.What the hell just happened?One minute he was worshiping my body, making me come apart in his hands, and the next he was running like his ass was on fire.
Sliding under the sheets, I figure I may as well try to get some sleep, but it is impossible after that. I toss and turn for what feels like hours, replaying every moment, every touch, every word. Finally, I give up and pull on Gia’s clothes, padding out into the main area of the clubhouse.
Most of the lights are off, and the space is quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator. I make my way to the bar, hoping maybe a drink will help quiet my racing thoughts.
Ro is here, wiping down glasses, her movements efficient even in the dim light. She looks up as I approach, taking in my disheveled appearance with knowing eyes. Without a word, shereaches for a bottle of tequila and pours a generous shot, sliding it across the bar to me.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice hoarse. “I need this.”
Ro sighs, leaning against the bar with a sympathetic expression. “He likes you. I can tell, he’s just being a stubborn ass about it, Lizzie. If you like him back, give it time. He’ll come around.”
I down the shot, welcoming the burn as it slides down my throat. It doesn’t help with the ache in my chest, but it’s something.
“In the meantime,” Ro continues, grabbing a bottle of something that looks strong from behind the bar. “I’ve gotta go. Mace is waiting for me, and I donotwant him to fall asleep on me, because let me tell you, that guy can fuuuck.”
I snort out a laugh, almost spitting out the second shot I’ve poured myself. “Have fun!”
Ro grins, waggling her eyebrows at me. “Oh, trust me, it’s not fun… it’s a fucking thrill ride. If Sin pisses you off, I highly recommend Mace as an alternate.” She rushes off with a wicked grin, leaving me giggling despite my confusion.
I pour myself another shot, then another, trying to numb the conflicted feelings churning in my chest. The tequila helps a little, warming me from the inside and dulling the sharp edges of my confusion.
Eventually, I decide I should probably try to get some sleep. I slide off the barstool, grateful that the alcohol has made me feel less raw, less exposed. I’m walking back toward my room when a figure emerges from the shadows, making me jump with a small scream. “Jesus H. Christ!” I gasp, reaching for my chest.
“Sorry, Elizabeth,” Ghost says with a smirk that suggests he’s not sorry at all. “Just heading in to do some work. Have a good night.”
“No wonder they call you Ghost,” I grumble, patting his arm as we reach his door. “You’re a fucking stealthy ninja. Good night.”
I continue toward my room, but something makes me glance back. Ghost is entering a code into a keypad beside his door, his fingers moving quickly over the numbers. But my instincts kick in, and before I can stop myself, I’m watching, memorizing.
Six digits.5-2-7-8-9-1.
