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He pulls me to him, my back to his front as he rests his head on my pillow, his warm breath hitting my ear. “So was I. Je ne veux pas n’être qu’une phase pour toi.”
“English, Tobias. Please.”
Silence.
And in seconds, he’s asleep.
The next morning, I wake to see my phone lying on the pillow next to me. I unlock it, and when the screen lights up, I realize my email has been checked, the most recent from my father.
It’s a summons—a summons to sign for my inheritance, tomorrow.
Tobias saw it. Which means our deal ends the minute the ink dries.
Once that money is safely transferred to my new bank account, we have no more business together. I’ll be free, and he’ll be free to move in on Roman.
Standing in the middle of my bedroom, I make a quick decision to pack an overnight bag, drive to Charlotte and get a hotel to prepare myself mentally. I don’t want to smell him on my sheets or study the drops of blood on my comforter while I mull over the feelings that threatened with our intimate exchange.
Dismissing what happened between us last night is the smartest move. It felt like there was a definite shift in our hate/fuck relationship. But I have to reject any idea that it was more than a late-night confession between two enemies calling a temporary truce.
But what if he had meant every word, every kiss, every touch? He had absolutely no motive to be so deceitful. He had no reason to confess or ask the questions he did, to touch me the way he did. To look at me the way he did.
He’s fucking with you. Sign the papers, punch your timecard, cash in, and go back to Georgia.
The second after I sign the papers, there’s a good chance I will never see Tobias again.
And good riddance.
Right?
I have no way of reaching out, no way of contacting him. Much like the men before him, when our arrangement ends, I’ll once again be locked out.
This is a purposeful advantage on his end. And what would I say to him anyway if I could?
Somehow, he’s slipped into more than my bed. He’s managed to occupy my thoughts too. But at this point, I can still make it safely away from him without adding another scar.
He’s a liar. His words, his looks, his touches—all lies. He wants me as his ally for his agenda. Nothing more. I don’t even know where he lives.
We are business.
“Don’t be a fucking fool,” I scold, throwing a suitable pair of slacks and a silk blouse along with the heels I chose into my bag.
After packing up, I lock the house up just as I get a confirmation email from the hotel of my reservation. Once buckled in my Jeep, I shoot a quick email to my supervisor at the plant and put in for two days of paid time off. Honestly, I don’t give a damn if I’m fired. I’m surprised Roman agreed to sign early, considering I still have a little over six weeks left to fulfill my end of our arrangement.
It takes me a little over two hours to get to Charlotte. I took my time on my drive, knowing I have nothing to look forward to once I get to the hotel.
Tomorrow I’ll be a millionaire, but for some reason today, I feel bankrupt.
Any normal woman would be charging up room service, popping bottles, or one-clicking a new pair of heels. Or, at the very least, building an impressive shopping cart.
All I feel is dread.
Sitting at the edge of the bed, I run a finger along my lips when memory kicks in.
Tobias woke me in the middle of the night with his lips, his tongue, before he took me.
And he didn’t just take me, he consumed me, hooking my thigh on his hip before pushing inside me from behind. Blood surges between my legs as my chest heats and my face flames.
“Call out to me, Cecelia,” he murmurs, pumping into me slowly, his strokes deliberate, filling me as he sucks my fingers into his mouth before guiding them to where our bodies meet, pressing them to my clit, drawing out my orgasm.
