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“Like I said, it’s not rocket science.”
“Saxon, most men find giving a girl one orgasm a challenge.” I kiss his nose. “You’re something else. I envy the girl who gets to hang on to you full time.”
He looks at me for a long moment, and opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something. Then he closes it again and carefully withdraws.
He disposes of the condom, then collapses onto the bed beside me. I roll to face him, and he pulls me into his arms.
“You were volcanic,” he murmurs, running his fingers through my hair.
I kiss his arm. “And you were sublime.”
“Ed Sheeran. Jesus. That’s a first.”
I chuckle. “Who would you have chosen?”
“Dunno. Megadeth?”
“Seriously?”
He laughs. “No. But something with a good bass line.”
“Post Malone?”
“I was thinking The Who. You can’t beat Entwistle.”
We continue to talk about bands, surprising each other with how eclectic we both are. He, unsurprisingly, likes loud rock music, although he obviously listens to a lot of other genres. I’m a sixties girl and love Motown and early rock, but we also meet in the middle, and name bands from every decade to the present day that we both love.
After a while, he runs his fingers through my hair, then yawns. “Sorry. I’ve been working since six a.m. and I’m tired, and a gorgeous redhead has just fucked me senseless.”
I chuckle. “What do you do?” I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help myself.
“Computer stuff,” he says.
I’m into computers too. We could have talked more about it, but what’s the point? I stifle a sigh and kiss his chest. “Go to sleep. You’ve earned it.”
“Stay the night, at least, will you?”
I rest my cheek on his shoulder. I won’t, but I don’t tell him that. Instead, I watch him as he falls asleep, and I stay like that for a while, just looking at him and pretending he’s mine, as the moon rises in the sky behind us, casting us in its silvery light.
Chapter Four
Saxon
It’s still dark when I wake. I’m lying on my stomach, facing the bedside table. I reach out and lift my phone to check the time. It’s 4:31 a.m.
Pushing up onto my elbows, I blink blearily and look at the other side of the bed.
It’s empty.
For a moment, I wonder if I imagined the events of last night. I sit up and look around. “Catie?” There’s no reply, so I get out of bed.
The suit I took off last night and threw on the floor now rests on a coat hanger. That definitely wasn’t me. I stare at it for a moment, then pick up my boxers and put them on. I can’t see any sign of Catie’s clothes on the floor or anywhere else. I walk through to the bathroom and gently push open the door. It’s empty.
Maybe she couldn’t sleep and went to make herself a hot drink?
Already knowing that’s not the case, I walk out into the lounge and look around. She’s not there. She’s gone, like Cinderella after the ball.
I stand there for a while, hands on my hips, fighting the urge to yank on my clothes and run down the emergency stairs out into the streets to follow her. My instincts tell me she left not long after I fell asleep, and she’s been gone for several hours.
