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A moment later I hear the water running. A nice hot bath sounds amazing actually, and it will give me time to get myself together before I drive back to the hotel and see Lycus.
Damn. I haven’t thought about him for a while now. It feels like this is the longest I’ve gone in weeks without thinking about and obsessing over him.
The water shuts off and my breath catches.
“I’ll never forget you, Angel,” he says softly, placing a delicate kiss on my forehead. “You’re perfect.”
And then the door to our room opens and closes softly, and I’m alone.
Tearing the blindfold from my face, I jump to my feet and race halfway across the room to the door before I stop myself. Do I want to go after him? Do I want to know who my perfect stranger was? Or do I just want to savour the night for what it was?
Sighing, I turn away from the bedroom door and head into the bathroom, where a perfect bubble bath with scented candles surrounding the deep tub is waiting for me.
ChapterNineteen
Lycus
As I step out of the dimly lit room and into the hallway, I can feel the weight of guilt crushing down on me like a heavy blanket. My heart races as I think about the woman I just left behind, her lips still swollen from my kisses, her body still trembling from the pleasure I’ve given her, my release still seeping between her thighs.
The memory of her sweet scent and our time together fills my mind, and I can’t help feeling like I’ve betrayed her.
Guilt is crippling me. I should never have touched her. The second I walked into the room and saw her waiting for me with that blindfold on, I should have revealed myself to her and been honest. Given her the opportunity to make an informed choice.
Instead, I found myself drawn to her like a moth to a flame, mesmerised by her beauty and the way she looked at me. I knew I couldn’t resist her any longer.
My body seemed to have a mind of its own. But after making her come apart for me that final time, I knew I couldn’t go on. It didn’t matter that we still had a couple of hours to enjoy together, I had to leave before I knew I wouldn’t be able to walk away from her. I had to get out of there before I did something stupid, like tearing off her blindfold and making her see who she was screaming for.
Instead, I ripped my own heart out instead.
Trying to clear my mind with a deep breath, I focus on my next steps. But as I make my way down the hallway and out of the club, I can’t shake the image of her from my mind.
I can’t stop myself from wondering what her life would be like without me in it. Will she forget me as easily as I’m supposed to forget her? Or will she carry the memory of our encounter with her forever, just as I will?
I take one last deep breath and step into the early morning air, leaving the promise of a dream behind me. As I walk towards my car, I tell myself that this is the final time I’ll ever do something like this.
I start the engine and put the car in drive, heading back to the hotel with a heavy heart. As I drive, I look out the window and see the city lights glittering in the distance, a stark reminder that I can never truly escape the life that I’ve inherited.
By the time I’ve reached our hotel room and let myself in, I’m dog-tired. It’s funny how quickly and easily I’ve picked up these colloquial expressions from my time in London.
I eye the bed, tempted to crawl under the covers for a few hours before our flight out of here later today, but I don’t know when Angelica will be back and it wouldn’t be fair on her to be asleep in her bed when she returns.
Besides, I need to shower and remove the scent of her from my skin before I go insane.
I strip off my clothes from last night, tossing them carelessly to the floor, and step into the hot spray of the shower. The water cascades over me, washing away the remnants of the night, but it can’t cleanse my conscience. I let out a frustrated sigh as guilt threatens to consume me once again.
As the steam fills the bathroom, I close my eyes and let my thoughts drift back to Angelica. Her name dances on my lips like a whispered confession. The memory of her curves beneath my touch and the taste of her on my tongue ignite a fire within me that refuses to be extinguished. I reach for the shower gel and lather my body in an attempt to rid myself of her intoxicating scent, but it just seems to make it worse.
Squinting at the bottle in my hand, I realise I’ve grabbed her shower gel by mistake. Now I’m covered in her once more. The suds cling to my skin, mingling with the remnants of our passion. I scrub harder, as if trying to erase every trace of her from my being, or maybe I’m driving her deeper into my soul.
But no matter how much I scrub and cleanse, her presence lingers in every corner of my mind. The way she moanedSir, the way she surrendered herself so willingly, it haunts me. It taunts me with what could have been if circumstances were different.
My dick turns to stone and refuses to quit. I could reach for my own shower gel, try to imprint my scent over the top of hers, but it’s pointless. There’s no washing myself of Angelica so easily anyway.
I take my throbbing cock in my hand and squeeze.
Slowly, my hand moves up and down, pumping in time with my thoughts and the echoes of her moans.
I moan quietly to myself, my mind lost in the memory. Angelica’s name is a chant as I stroke myself, faster, harder. The water sprays down around me, a hot shower of erotic confusion.
