She panted for breath as I worked my way up her body, dipping a tongue in her belly button, dropping feather-light kisses along her ribs. Stopping at her breasts, I filled my hands, squeezed, sliding my thumbs over her nipples until she writhed against me. I tasted her collarbone, the hollow behind her ear.
Finally, kissing her. Taking her mouth in slow, long kisses. Letting the heat from her orgasm fade and then building it again until she was turned on her side, a leg hooked over my hip. My hard cock was between us, my mouth on her nipple, her name on my lips.
“Eli,” she breathed. “Eli, please.”
I pressed inside her, shuddering at her tight, wet heat, the rock of her hips. She urged me deeper, but I wasn’t going to rush, no matter how much I wanted it.
I filled her, sliding my arms under her back, holding her close. Her nipples were hard points against my chest, her legs locked around my hips, her head tipped back. And all I could say was “Sylvie. Sylvie. Sylvie,” like a chant.
All I wanted was this woman as close to me as I could get her. How could she not feel what we had? How could she not want more? She convulsed around me, orgasm taking her almost by surprise, given the way she shouted my name. I couldn’t hold back. I followed her, the pulse of her body around my cock sharp with bliss.
When I got my breath, I rolled out of bed to take care of the condom, hoping things would be back to normal when I returned. I came out of the bathroom to find the lights out and the bed empty. Her clothes were missing from the floor at the foot of the bed. I tuggedon my boxers and strode across the hall, suddenly furious, ready to bang on her door and demand an explanation.
But the hitch of her breath on the other side of the door stopped me.
Was she crying?
I stood there holding my breath and leaned my forehead against the door. I heard it again—a low, faint whimper followed by a hitching sound.
Fucking hell.She was crying.
I lifted my hand and pressed my palm silently against the wood, wanting more than anything to open the door. I couldn’t leave her like that. The idea of walking away while she wept alone in the dark was not going to fucking happen.
I knocked lightly. “Sylvie. Talk to me, please.”
She drew in a breath. I caught the rustle of sheets, and then, “I’m tired, Eli. Just go to sleep. It’s better like this.”
“The fuck it is,” I said. “Will you please talk to me?”
“There isn’t anything to talk about. Let it be, okay? This was a bad idea.”
“The only thing that was a bad idea,” I said through the door, “was me not telling you the truth about Silas. I can’t go back and fix that.”
“I know, Eli. I know you can’t. Look, it’s fine. This will all be over soon, but for now, I want to get some sleep. Please, just let me go to sleep.”
I tried the handle. Locked.
I let out a long breath and straightened, staring at the door. I didn’t really have any other options besides breaking it down, which I considered.
The problem was that Sylvie didn’t trust me anymore. I didn’t know how to win back her trust, but breaking downher door when she’d asked me to let her sleep in peace didn’t seem like a good first move.
I turned, made my way back to my now very empty, very lonely bedroom. I pulled the covers up and stared at the ceiling, wondering if I’d be able to sleep. I thought about Sylvie, so close despite the locked door between us, lying in her bed alone, crying herself to sleep. Because I was an idiot and a coward.
I had to figure out how to convince her to trust me again, to take a chance on what we had between us. But as I stared at the ceiling, no solution appeared. This was out of my realm of experience. There had been plenty of women, but no one woman—no one who really mattered. There had been work, the team, but no one who stood out above the rest of it.
I had no idea what I was doing with Sylvie. If I had, I wouldn’t have fucked everything up so badly.
I knew she had feelings for me. So I had something to work with. I was supposed to be good at puzzles. I could figure this out. I had to hope, because the idea of losing her was untenable. It had only been days, but everything had shifted.
Losing Sylvie wasn’t an option.
Chapter Twenty-Three
SYLVIE
Eli was gone when I finally got out of bed in the morning.
A note sat on the table, saying he’d been called down into the office and to either come down there when I was up, or text, and he’d run out and get breakfast.
