Page 84 of Drowning in Darkness

I lean back and fold my arms. “There’s a difference between me being spotted and you.”

“You believe he’s circling your job. He might lose interest in me and move on. That’s not happening with you.”

I hate how she can run circles around me with words alone. “Not worth the risk.”

She sighs. “It’s like being back at the institute. Probably similar to the way women feel in your cult.”

I tense. “You aren’t a prisoner.”

“Glad we cleared that up. Let me know what time we’re leaving, and I’ll be ready.” She nods at me with her decision, hands on her hips, looking delectable in my freaking shirt.

How did she do that? I’m left baffled as she finishes her meal and starts clearing up the dishes and loading them into the dishwasher.

“See you bright and early, roomie.” She disappears out of the kitchen and heads into her bedroom in a whirlwind of berry-scented air, toned legs, and a smart mouth that is going to be the death of me.

TWENTY-EIGHT

STEPHANIE

Be unapologetically you. If they don’t like it, they were never your people anyway.

My plan, if you can call it that, is not working. He seems as unaffected by me as ever, making me question if I imagined it. I lift my head from the sink as I brush my teeth, catching the shower glass in the mirror. I can’t see it, but I know if I steam this place up nice and thick, that handprint will be there.

I have questioned my reality a time or two over the years. It’s only natural when you’ve come so close to the edge. But the evidence of his feelings for me is right there, invisible as it is right now. Maybe I need to continue to push him, to make him face them.

I’m aware I’m not the poster child for patience. I never have been. But I do make up for it in determination. You’d think those traits would work opposite to each other, and for many, that’s true. People once told me I wouldn’t be able to play the piano to a decent level in less than two years. I didn’t have the patience to wait that long, but I did have the determination to make it happen faster, so I was at the expected level within six months. Was it hard work? Sure. But it was also satisfying to prove them wrong.

So deciding to make this man unravel in the shortest time possible is not the hardest thing I’ve faced. What I lack in experience, which is a lot, I make up for in bystander reader knowledge in droves.

I glance down at the shirt I pilfered from his closet and twist my lips to the side. If the shirt didn’t do it, maybe I need to take it to the next level. A slow, wicked grin takes over my face as an idea forms.

Thank you, romance writers everywhere, for your endless research and knowledge application. Know I am only using these sacred secrets to bring a grown man to his knees. Over and over again, naked, kissing me everywhere.

My skin flushes, and before I can talk myself out of it, I’m once again riffling through his clothes. I grab what I need and don’t think to question anything, because bringing reason to the mix is not going to give me action.

I stride into the sitting room where I find him lounging on the sofa with his laptop balanced on his bent knees and a cold beer in his hand.

He casts a cursory look over my legs and raises a brow. Oh, what I’d give to see inside your mind, James Austin.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed a few other things,” I start, staying firmly six feet away so I can give him the full show he’s unaware I’m planning.

He shrugs. “Sure, anything you want. What’s mine is yours.”

A little dramatic, but said with the laziest of attention. “Great, because I can’t sleep in panties like this.”

He nods along as he focuses on his laptop and ignores me. “Understandable.”

I steel myself as I hook my fingers into the top of my panties, making sure I remain covered. No need to be crude—imagination is a powerful thing. I slide them down, not brave enough to meet his eyes or wilt under his inattention.

There’s an audible inhale of air that’s not from me as I drop them on the floor and snap open his boxer briefs before stepping into them. He chokes on air, proving I’m not wrong. Thank goodness for that, because I was starting to doubt everything. That’s my impatience back in full force.

I shimmy into his underwear, making sure to keep everything artfully covered. Then I stand straight and pat my hips. “Perfect fit. So much more comfortable.” I meet his eyes, finding them almost unreadable, which is a problem. He needs to give me more than a gasp and that deep, rumbly tone that does wicked things to my insides.

“You’re wearing my underwear,” he mutters as his eyes range from my legs to my chest. “And my shirt.”

“It’s either that or sleep naked,” I say with a shrug that belies the way I’m feeling. “Now, what snacks do we have? I’m more awake than I realized, so I was thinking about a Scream marathon, or maybe Twilight.”

I stride into the kitchen.