Page 91 of In Love and Revenge

Aurora Thorne.

Bloody hell, that girl can moan. I think my ears are still ringing from her eager cries of my name.

My name.

I smirk. It’s a shame her neighbour, Mike, will be enjoying his new soundproofing. The guy could have done with getting a taste of his own medicine. But then that would have meant another guy hearing the way she sounds when she unravels ... when shereallycomes.

My jaw tightens.No bloody way.Those sounds are where they belong –with me, not with any other bastard.

Sitting up, I rake a hand through my hair. Aurora’s no longer beside me, and one quick glance around, and I can tell she isn’t in the tiny living and kitchen area either. Climbing out of bed, I look at the closed bathroom door.

‘Aurora?’ I call.

No answer.

I take in the state of the place as I wander across the small room. It’s neat and tidy, with little in the way of personal possessions apart from a few framed photographs of her and her father. Makes sense. If she’s trying to maintain the appearance that this really is how she lives, then no wonder there’s barely anything of any real consequence here.

Still, I’m impressed she’s managed to uphold the façade for so long. I wonder where she stores everything that her and her father hid from the authorities. A rental lock-up, perhaps? Because all of those fancy designer outfits she wears in her vlogs are noticeably absent. Her meagre wardrobe is hanging on a flimsy rail that looks like a blind monkey assembled it.

A dazzle catches the morning light that’s trying in vain to push through the old, broken blinds at the window. Walking over, I pull the chain, opening them.

‘Hm.’ I grunt, spotting the source.

Gold sequins glitter on the rail between two dark pencil skirts – ones I bought for her, if I’m not mistaken. I slide them apart so I can admire the garment between them. The gold is bright, obvious – like it wants to blind me for having the audacity to look at it.

I caress the neckline of the top with the pads of two fingers. I’ve seen Aurora wear this multiple times. Both in photos Dove has taken, and in person. I feign disinterest every time, but really, I know every damn sequin on this top like I sewed it on myself.

She looks beautiful in it.

And now I know she’s even more beautiful beneath.

‘Aurora?’ I call again.

I told her last night was a one-off. That I needed to have her. Just. Once. But of course, that turned into twice. And if she didn’t have this disarming effect of making me so relaxed that I sleep likea log in her bed that smells of her, then it would have been more than twice. I’d have made damn sure of it.

It’s perfect. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. I’ve always kept women at arm’s length. I can’t risk one caring about me enough to spill tears over me. My mother’s criesthat dayare dug so deeply into my soul that I swore I’dneverbe in a position to hear a sound like that again. But sex with Aurora? A woman who’s always held disdain for me? It’s win-win. There’s no chance of hurting her if my heart ever ...

I rub at the centre of my chest as it twinges, the dull pain serving as a reminder for me not to get carried away. Not to expect or covet having the things most men my age already have and take for granted.

Aurora’s antipathy towards me is the biggest damn aphrodisiac I could hope for.

A distant birdsong creeps in through the window. It’s early. Early enough to argue that the day hasn’t started yet, not really, and that this is just a mere extension of the night. My dick twitches between my thighs as I dip my head and inhale the faint ghost of her perfume lingering on the small gold discs.

‘You in there?’ I purr as I make my way to the bathroom door and rap my knuckles against it.

I push open the door when there’s no answer.

The shoebox-sized bathroom is empty.

No naked Aurora waiting for me to drag her back into bed with me.

No Beauty that’s taken up permanent residence in my head, to help me out with the aching situation I have going on between my thighs.

No bloody sign of her.

I walk to the sink. A small note has been taped to the mirror above.

Thanks for the dance last night, because that’s all that happened.